


One Afternoon In Your Next Reincarnation

by Damned_Writers



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst With A Happy End, Curses, Despite appearances Harry isn't dead, Eggsy is not-so-secretly in love in every timeline, Harry is an idiot in every timeline, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Knights!AU, Lowkey Star Wars!AU, M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmates With A Twist, Space!AU, WWI!AU, both happen in the same chapter will warn for it there as well, it used to be happyish and then I wrote the epilogue!!!, medieval!au, non-descriptive suicide, some non-descriptive violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:32:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damned_Writers/pseuds/Damned_Writers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Its about being at ease in one's own skin. As Hemingway said: There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man. True nobility is being superior to your former self." - Harry Hart, Kingsman</p><p>For the Kingsman Secret Santa</p><p>Gift for pushiebird.</p><p>Harry Hart made a mistake that will haunt him for the rest of eternity. Title taken is an idiom from Thailand that refers to something that will never happen. In English translates to "when pigs fly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inquisition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pushiebird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Pushiebird), [Mimupf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimupf/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that this is okay for you, since we were mashed together and I'm a blurb. Got some of your medieval/inquisition, some soulmates, a little war, some teacher/student and a couple of things I added because I love space (I hope you don't mind a little bit of space). This is multi-chapter, and I'll be uploading a new one every day.

There were times before this, he realised as the bullet careened towards his head. He allowed himself a moment to admire its curve, aware on some instinctual level that although Valentine had closed his eyes and jerked his hand unnaturally, that it would hit him squarely between the eyes.

He didn't care right now. He'd cared a second or so ago, but right now he was busy remembering the times before. How many times? He was dimly remembering… _something_ to do with spears… and flashing lights… a gunshot… hundreds of other images. He assumed, if he'd currently been feeling anything, that feeling would be a headache. As it was he was merely disoriented and irritated.

A couple of pictures started to arrange themselves properly in his mind, forming a memory of some sort. A stone circle. Fire.

“Here we are again,” said a voice, and suddenly Harry was standing in the middle of the circle. “How do you feel?”

He spun around, but there was no one there. “This isn't exactly what I had imagined when they said that my life would flash before my eyes,” he said.

“Ah,” said the voice. “You've caught on then. Faster than last time.”

Harry squinted into the darkness beyond the flickering light of the circle. Somewhere out there he could hear faint cries. Disconcerting. On top of that he was, presumably, still in the process of getting shot. Oh, and there was the disembodied voice. At least his suit was looking as snappy as it had done before his church massacre. Small mercies.“I don't think so...” he was steadily getting the sensation of deja vu.

“Oh.” It sounded disappointed. “I'll have to explain again, I suppose.”

“I've been here before,” said Harry, before it could continue, sounding petulantly annoyed at the assumption that he was somehow slow on the uptake. And annoyed that he _was_ feeling incredibly dimwitted, but maybe it was simply the prospect of imminent death outside of a Kentucky church that was distracting him. Wherever that church was.

“Yes...” the voice urged him to go on.

“A while ago…” the memories were still just flashes and vague pictures. “Another lifetime.”

“Do you remember what happened?” asked the voice.

“I… huh. I died.” Maybe that was the source of the sensation. “I was talking with you and… I died.”

“Well, that's not a bad start. Shall we continue then?”

“With what?” Harry wasn't keen to be sent back to go back to the church just yet. Not when there were unanswered questions and the strange unquenchable hope that he might survive after all.

“With your story. Let's see, next time you were sent… Ah, of course. Inquisition. Not a pleasant time for you. Do you remember that?”

Something lurched and Harry was standing in a muddied courtyard. “I do,” he said, surprised, because suddenly everything was _there_ as though it had never left.

 

*******************

 

_Spain_ _,_ _1601_

Harry felt his nose. Broken, but fixable. Better than the lacerations on his back in any case, and far better than two of the fingers on his left hand, which stuck out at odd angles. _Well,_ he thought. _That hadn't been fun._

He'd entered the church with his head held high, the barest essence of a condescending eyebrow raise, a barely restrained sneer, and surrounded by guards. The archbishop had been less than pleased with his expression. “You stand charged,” he had bellowed dramatically, the church assisting in bouncing his words into every corner and eagerly listening ear. “Of heresy, of witchcraft, and of consorting with the devil. _You…_ are a protestant! And on the side of the false English queen.”

Harry had snorted – looking back that might have been a mistake. “At least I'm not a Catholic whore,” he'd answered pleasantly, for the pleasure of seeing a vein throb ominously in the archbishop's temple. “And I find that a little extra-marital congress here and there to be quite pleasant, although I'm sure you know nothing about that sort of thing.”

The vein had grown larger. “You confess?” Obviously they were used to a little more objection, or at least an attempt to flee, but Harry hadn't been in the mood for torture, nor in the punishment of his servants should he be unavailable. Besides, he was a nobleman, a soldier, and a diplomat. To run would be cowardice.

“Which part? I'm not sure about the devils, I've never met any.”

The archbishop had ignored him. “Lastly… you were seen in the company of… Men! Of all colours.” There had been a gasp. One of the guards had clearly been resisting the urge to cross himself. _Sodomy!_

Harry had rolled his eyes. “I confess. Do what you will. I'm not afraid to die.” He had paused for a second, and then added: “ _Flavit Jehovah et Dissipati Sunt_.”

The archbishop had cried out in anger and he had been dragged away to the sounds of curses and accusations before he could defame them any further.

 His punishment had been to be flogged twenty times, after which a night to atone and then burned at the stake come morning.

He had sighed upon hearing that. Lord Chesterton would be disappointed in him, he had thought. Disappointed that his diplomacy - and above all – his spy had failed, but then again, Harry had insisted that he was a terrible choice. And then the truth had come out, while he had been standing trial. Sold out to Spain for a truce. Not even that, only a burgeoning truce. No matter. Betrayal was par for the course, he had told himself and then he had set about cursing him with every foul word he could muster.

He had bribed his executioner, and would be stabbed before the flames were lit, so he wasn't worried about that bit. The pain and the humiliation of today, however, he could have done without.

There had been a crowd, jeering and spitting at him. He had been publicly stripped of his titles and restrained, his (expensive) shirt ripped open at the back. And despite himself he had started to cry after the eighth lash, although he didn't hold that against himself. After they had released his bonds, he had fallen to his knees. Somebody had stepped on his fingers, somebody else had kicked him in the face, and then he had been, _mercifully,_ dragged away. So much for dignity.

The sound of someone drawing closer forced him to abandon his attempts to find a comfortable lying position and stand up. He hissed when that tore at something, but stayed in place. “If you're looking for any Queensmen, you'll find them here, languishing in luxury,” he said, sounding somewhat nasal and croaky, but otherwise fine.

A man stepped out of the darkness, young, handsome, fidgety. He knew him. He was always serving him wine at his parties. “You're one of my servants,” he said. “I saw you at my wonderful display this afternoon.”

The man nodded. “Uhm… Gareth, my lord. People call me Eggsy.”

Harry frowned slightly in consideration at the name. “Eggsy.” He shrugged. It hurt. He flinched.

Eggsy noticed and took a step forwards. “I brought some wine and food, my lord, I thought...” he stopped talking.

Harry laughed bitterly. “I die tomorrow and you bring me food.” Eggsy stepped back again, as though about to leave, his face falling at the chastisement. “I could use some company though,” continued Harry, surprised at his own desperation. Christ, a small beating and he was going soft.

Eggsy didn't seem to notice, and walked forwards again to the edge of the bars. “They're sending your men back to England tomorrow. Unharmed, with Lady Morton.”

“Ah. Well, at least this was good for something then. She always was much better at diplomacy than I was. I think that wine might be a good idea Eggsy.”

He nodded and passed it through to him – cheap, but Harry wasn't looking for quality right now. As he took it, he touched Eggsy hand, resting his fingers along the calloused knuckles. “How long have you been in my service?” he asked.

“Few years,” said Eggsy, eyes fixed on where Harry was touching him. “Was trying to work my way up. My lord,” he added hastily.

“I apologise that that isn't going to work for you. And we're equals right now, you may call me Harry.”

Eggsy shook his head and pulled his hand back quickly. “That's not true.”

“How so? I'm about to die, you're about to be unemployed and connected to a disgraced lord. We're both fucked.”

Eggsy shrugged. “You were still born with a silver spoon up your arse.” Harry raised his eyebrows slightly, but Eggsy stared defiantly back, almost willing a fight.

“We're not all the same,” said Harry finally.

“I know. That's why you're about to die.” There didn't seem to be any condemnation in his words, but Harry wouldn't have cared either way.

“True. Worth it.” He grimaced slightly. “Apart from this afternoon, that is. I suppose it could be worse.”

“Would've been worse for me,” said Eggsy and Harry's eyebrows shot a little higher.

“Is that so?”

Eggsy hesitated, then nodded, not looking at him. Harry started to drink the wine, grimacing again, this time at the taste. God, he was too used to the finer things in life to go out like this. Finally Eggsy spoke again. “I could get you out.”

“Really?”

“Could run.”

Harry looked into the young man's hopeful face and recognised something, beyond the before-noted similarities in sexual preferences. Eggsy's favours were directed at himself. Even now that he was in this damp cell, pitiful, bloodied, and dishonoured, about to die in the morning. He'd never thought that he might have the power to break someone's heart, at least not beyond the passing fancies that men and women had sometimes bestowed upon him – although he had insulted more than one noble family by not marrying their daughters. Eggsy's face was open and honest and desperate. Harry almost smiled. “I'm afraid that's not really in my nature.”

“You're gonna die over your fucking title?”

Harry paused. “And what would we do, once you had me out of here? Go back to England to hide in the countryside, or to court? They won't let me live long there either, and it will be all the more painful. Or perhaps across to some small foreign country, to starve and die in peace? Is that your little dream?”

Eggsy opened and closed his mouth.

“How long have you watched me?” asked Harry.

He stared hard back at Harry, ignoring his mocking tone. “I'm not leaving you here.”

Harry inclined his head slightly to the side, a predator – wounded, but still callous and cold. “Because I never even noticed you. You're nothing but a servant. I might have used you if you had come to me sooner, but I don't think that's what you were looking for. And after that I would have tossed you on the street. Your hopes and dreams are childish.” He felt a moment's regret at the way Eggsy's face fell, all his defences down, but this was necessary. As much as he could take the ignominy of his own situation, he wasn't going to let it last longer than a quick death sentence, and he wasn't going to drag the other down with him. Besides, he was basically broken now. Nothing left but torn flesh and an old body, going to die in either Spain or England. Best to let him think that he could never care.

“You're lying,” said Eggsy suddenly. “I've been with you since my father died in your service. I know you.”

“You don't,” answered Harry forcefully. He didn't want Eggsy to leave, there was a part of him that wanted to beg him to stay the night, but it wouldn't be fair. He didn't want to risk his torture or death as well.

Eggsy hung his head. “… I don't want you to die...”

“I know what you want. It would never have been possible.” There was even some truth in that. Maybe. Harry allowed himself to consider for a brief moment. It didn't matter. He didn't even know if what he was suddenly feeling was love or a last-minute attempt at peace with all that had happened. Maybe it was just the fear and the pain and the adrenalin. Still. He let himself imagine. “Go. And it might be best for you if you stayed away tomorrow. I'm not looking to add you to my conscience right before I'm burned to death.”

There was still defiance in his eyes, Harry saw, but he didn't know what else to say. Dying while he watched seemed the utmost cruelty, but he couldn't tell him to stay away for that reason. Eggsy would probably insist that they run again.

“… I'm sorry,” Eggsy said suddenly. “I -”

“You shouldn't be,” said Harry. “I would find a nice wife when you get home. Forget this whole affair.”

He didn't answer him again as he turned and left Harry alone in the dark.

 

The rest of the night was spent on getting as drunk as was possible with his single bottle. It wasn't as sufficient as he'd hoped, but dulled the pain.

The next morning he was dragged out before the crowd again, bound harshly against the stake – at least it was him and none of the others. They hadn't been caught. The others were not highborn enough to have had this privilege, and would have been thrown on after the wood was kindled. He could face a quick, painless death – and then he saw him. Somebody was reading the charges, but he didn't hear them, eyes fixed on Eggsy's drawn face.

He didn't even notice the knife sliding into his side.

 

*******************

 

Harry gasped for air, suddenly returned to the stone circle. “Why did I have to see that?” he asked, once he had gotten his breath back.

“You know he could have saved you. By our calculations you would have lived at least another ten years had you agreed to go with him then.”

“And why didn't I?”

“You still don't remember?”

Harry gritted his teeth. “It was a relatively painless death,” he said, as though absolving himself.

“Relatively. Do you remember the next one?”

Harry was about to shake his head: “But why was Eggsy - ?” And then he was somewhere - somewhen _-_ else again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So around abouts 1601 Queen Elizabeth was happily at war with Spain, a war that had started in 1585 and would end in 1604. The Spanish were happily burning heretics and protestants and whatnots, while in England you could be killed for the exact opposite, catholicism (although if you don't know about the English history from Henry VIII until the death of Elizabeth, it's interesting, and it wasn't fun, and you had to switch from catholic to protestant faster than Henry switched wives).
> 
> The term that Harry says: "Flavit Jehovah et Dissipati Sunt" translated to "he blew with his winds and they were scattered." This phrase was used by the english to commemorate one of the greatest victories against the Spanish, when a great big storm basically fucked up their entire armada (in 1588) and all the protestants were like "yay, this means god thinks catholics suck." Needless to say, not a good idea to use those words in front of a Spanish clergy around that time.
> 
> Lastly, Gary didn't exist in 1601, but Gareth is the name that came before. In chapter five he'll be called Geraint of all things.
> 
> Criticism and stuffs would make me superduper happy.


	2. Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I wrote that I'd be uploading every day AND THEN I got a job in London, so for the last while I've been stressed and packing and stupid, but this story is TECHNICALLY finished, and just needs tune-ups that I do chapter-for-chapter, when I'm not a ball of stress and excitement. So. Next one is definitely up tomorrow and then I'm off (at 3 in the morning) and then I just need to get settled, but shouldn't take long at all (pretty please, fingers crossed).
> 
> Mimi, I know you love fighty Eggsy, and I promise you'll get him, but there are too many concussions and crashes and drugs and things going on in this one for either of them to be fully coherent, and mostly it's just awful flirting and background space.
> 
> Some Star Wars (movie) referencing, because yes. The Empire aren't the good guys, the rebels aren't the good guys, no one's really good (except cinnamon roll Eggsy).

_The Huntsman, 197 PEY (post-earth years)_

 The ship was burning. It wouldn't survive another hit if their attackers decided that the cargo and prisoner-transport wasn't worth the paperwork. Harry was continuing to salvage whatever he could, on the off-chance that he would stay alive long enough to get any of it to its intended destination. In the depths of the ship there was still one rescue-pod, capable of holding at most three others. Hopefully Merlin and Roxy were alive, and somewhere close to it. Suddenly there was a loud crash and something exploded. Harry was thrown forwards -

 

************************

 

\- He woke up in a holding cell. Alive after all then, albeit with a wrinkled and ripped suit. He would have to live with that for now. The information that they had taken was clearly a lot more valuable than he had been let on at the beginning of his mission. Interesting that King had said nothing. After that there was a pounding headache and he didn't move for awhile, hoping that nobody would be there to interrogate him until he could attempt an escape.

The door opened as he was trying not to fall asleep, and a young man entered and stood. He looked sullen and hesitant, and more than a little pretty. Which was an observation that he blamed on his head still beating behind his eyelids, but didn't regret. “A little short for a guard, aren't you?”

The man bristled. “Shut up, and hurry, we have to get out of here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and considered telling him that he might have a concussion and didn't appreciate his tone. “And who are you?” he said instead. He blamed it on his head again. Really, very pretty.

“The man who's getting you out of here, now _come on.”_

Harry stood, a little wobbly, and grumbled. “Not exactly an answer.” The man noticed his difficulties and made to help him, but Harry shrugged him off. “I can walk.”

“Fucking gratitude'd be nice,” he muttered under his breath and started to lead him down a darkened corridor. Harry stumbled after him with as much dignity as he could muster, when the man suddenly turned and pushed him into a side-corridor. Harry knew better than to protest, but his vision swam for a few seconds, as he tried to focus on what was being said to him. “… these on.”

Harry looked down. Handcuffs. “Usually wait until the third time...” he drawled.

“Shit, are you alright?”

The world swam sluggishly into view again and he nodded. “Concussion,” he admitted.

“… Eggsy,” said the man. “S'my name. Now put these on.” Harry obliged. “Can you fly a ship?”

Harry nodded. “Usually.”

“Right, well… now would be a great time.”

Eggsy guided him past people and into a large hangar, nodding nervously whenever he caught someone's eye. “It's gonna be fine,” he mumbled.

“There's no need to reassure me,” said Harry.

“I was talking to myself.”

“You would make a terrible spy.”

Eggsy merely pushed him along until they reached the starfighters, hurriedly trying to force him into the nearest one, when Harry stopped him. “Was I the only one?”

Eggsy looked confused for a second, but then nodded, looking harried and fearful. “Everyone else died or escaped.” Harry stepped inside. He could continue to ask once they were safely out of there – or sharing a cell.

 

************************

 

Harry woke up in the infirmary, disoriented and with a vague memory of Eggsy shouting at him to pull up... a crash. Eggsy… he blinked a few times. Who was that? Ah, yes, the pretty young man who'd helped him escape – where was he? He looked around, not remembering if their escape had been a success or not. No, this was… this was definitely standard rebel-sickbay. Everything was cheap and scarred and the air smelt faintly of wood and not the sterilised air of a command ship. He was safe, if not accommodated to his usual standards. For a second he breathed a sigh of relief, but then frowned. Eggsy wasn't here. Neither was anyone else for that matter.

He looked down his body. There was a bandage around his arm, but otherwise nothing appeared to be out of order. He testingly flexed his fingers and toes, moved his arms and legs, rolled his neck. Nothing hurt. Good. Then he got out of bed.

Immediately a beeping noise alerted three doctors to his side, and he was made to lie back down until they had checked him over again. Throughout he asked the same question. “The man who was with me, where is he?”

“You crashed, south of the command base, we managed to get you out before the fire started...”

“The man?”

“Who?”

Harry was eventually allowed to sit as Merlin strode into the infirmary. “You made it then,” said Harry.

Merlin nodded. “And you're late. Again. Roxy's alive, Hugo, Tilde… Amelia didn't make it. Nor did James.”

“And the man who was with me?”

Merlin frowned. “You came in alone. There was no one else. We've managed to save some of the information that we were sent in for-”

Harry stood again. “I need to see Chester,” he said, waving the nearest nurse aside.

“You're to report for psychward,” answered Merlin. “King comes after...” his frown deepened, “and you should probably get dressed. Come with me.”

Harry did as he was told, determined to see King first, but unwilling to go anywhere without the proper attire. Hospital gowns didn't suit him at the best of times, and he wanted to be taken a little seriously. He touched his cheek. Oh god, stubble. Chester could definitely wait.

They entered the wardrobe and Merlin immediately shut the door and turned on him. “Get dressed, shut up, and listen, Galahad.”

Harry noted the change in his voice and said nothing while the other spoke: “You and one unidentified person were brought in here at the same time, two days ago. The paperwork on the latter's internment and medical treatment has not been transmitted, nor has any record of his arrival reached official networks. You know what this means.” Harry did. Off the books interrogation. Eggsy wouldn't be left alive. Merlin continued, “I successfully located his cell, tomorrow there will be an opening. You'll know it when it arrives.” He handed Harry the coordinates.

“Are you proposing that I rescue him?”

“You have a soft spot for him. He's all you've been deliriously talking about the last few days. You're not usually this soft-hearted.”

“Neither are you.”

Merlin shrugged. “He saved your life. Kingsman isn't usually this harsh towards those who've turned from the Empire.”

Harry finished up. “And psych?”

“I've moved your scheduled appointment to tomorrow.” Merlin turned to leave. “By the way, Roxy is going to turn off your tracer. If you feel like disappearing, this might be the opportune time.”

Harry froze. “You do know that I'm loyal to Kingsman and to the Alliance. And to King.”

“I know,” said Merlin. “I, however, am unsure about King's loyalties. We need you on the outside Harry. Think about it. Just because he knew your parents, doesn't mean that you can trust him.”

“Haven't got anyone else to trust, have I.”

Merlin shrugged again. “I don't know. That lad you brought with you seems capable. Would've made a nice agent if he'd been born to the right family.”

Harry was left alone.

 

************************

 

“Did you feel sorry for the boy?” asked Chester in their later meeting. Harry nodded and kept his mouth shut about everything that Merlin had told him, about why he was being kept in the dark on whatever had been retrieved during the last mission, waiting for the opening that he had been promised, and ignoring his gnawing doubts.

 

************************

 

It came the very next day in the form of a powercut. Harry immediately left his office – the paperwork could be finished later, hopefully – and walked briskly towards where he knew Eggsy was being kept. He passed several people on the way, asking him if he knew what was happening, assuring them that it was probably nothing, that somebody had fucked up and was going to be demoted, no, they weren't under attack, he was busy… gradually the footsteps of others faded away and he was walking alone.

Suddenly a figure appeared before him, hidden in the shadows of the dimly lit corridor, and almost prompting an attack before it revealed itself as Roxy. “I made a flightplan for you. Neutral ground. It should give you enough of a headstart to find out where you want to go next.” She gave him a chip and a pill. “He's going to need a boost to wake him up. Good luck, Galahad.” And then she was gone. Efficient, even when betraying her boss.

Harry turned one last corner, nerves and adrenalin fuelling his mind into a sharp mission-oriented point: find Eggsy, bring Eggsy to carrier, get Eggsy safely away. If necessary, cause a distraction. He punched the code to the cell-door and it opened with a small click. “Merlin, you're a fucking genius,” murmured Harry and entered.

It was lit by the same dull emergency lights from outside, and Harry tensed, waiting for an attack.

Instead there was only a low groan from the single bunk in the corner. “The fuck's happening out there?”

Harry approached the sound carefully, as though approaching a wounded animal. He activated the camera in his eyes, scanning over the curled up ball to see if there was any damage. They had had him for some days, there was no telling what state he might be in. No broken bones. “I'm here to rescue you. Eggsy.”

The lump moved and looked blearily up at him. “Oh, it's you… can you get me out?” He laughed. “Handsome fucking prince, coming to my rescue...”

Harry could hear in his voice that he was heavily drugged. He knelt down next to him, checking him further. No outwardly obvious signs of abuse. He should be able to walk. “Hey,” slurred Eggsy. “Watch the merchandise...”

“Take this,” said Harry, holding out the pill.

Eggsy blinked up at him. “If I do, will you give me a kiss? Always wanted to kiss a prince...”

“If you take this right now, I'll give you more than just a kiss.”

Eggsy dutifully opened his mouth and Harry placed it on his tongue, making sure that he swallowed.

“Come on, we don't have time to wait.”

“Kiss,” insisted Eggsy.

Harry sighed and leaned in, brushing his lips briefly before pulling back again.

“That wasn't what I meant.”

“I apologise,” said Harry, for a moment allowing himself to stroke Eggsy's cheek. “But I think escape is more important right now. Nod if you understand.”

Eggsy nodded sluggishly, pouting.

“Good. Get up.” He helped Eggsy stand and wrapped an arm around his middle, letting him put his weight on him. He wasn't heavy, having clearly lost a lot since they had caught him. Then he started to half-carry him to the hangar bay. With any luck he could get him out of here and the alliance would suspect nothing until he was long gone. With any luck.

Nobody rushed to meet them as they hurried as fast as they could down the endless halls. Eggsy gradually woke up and started to run on his own, not saying a word to Harry as they reached the ship. His face was strained, clearly something hurt, but he was ignoring it. At least whatever Roxy had given him was doing its job.

The lights went back on, and Harry made a mental note to reprimand the slowness of whoever was in charge of reactivating them, as he punched in the code and the hangar bay door opened with a whoosh. Finally he put a hand on Eggsy's shoulder, holding out the chip. “Take this, it has the coordinates. The ship runs on autopilot, you don't have to do anything.”

Eggsy looked confused. “You're coming with me though?”

Harry shook his head. “There's a tracer embedded in my body. It's standard, so that we can be found if something goes wrong. They can also set it to blow if an agent is compromised. I don't know how to deactivate it yet, but once I've sorted it out I'll come and find you.” He was lying but Eggsy couldn't know that. He was loyal to Kingsman, to the Alliance, and…. He was going to find out what King had done and then he was going to kill him. There was no way out for him, never really had been. They'd evaluate him once they found out what he'd done, and he'd await the decision, while investigating behind the scenes. But he wasn't a fugitive. He was a Kingsman agent… As long as Eggsy wasn't caught in the crossfires.

Eggsy looked like he was about to argue, but Harry shook his head. “Just do as your told.”

An alarm went off. He leaned in closer to Eggsy, tightening his hold on his shoulder slightly, but thought better of it. Kissing him would simply make him want to stay, to help, and that would be counterproductive to getting him as far away as possible. “Go,” Harry said instead and pushed the chip into his hands. “I'll sort out this mess.”

Eggsy nodded shortly and got on the ship, Harry closing the doors after him. It lifted off, disappearing quickly out of sight, while behind him the hangar doors opened and soldiers piled out. Harry raised his hands in mock defeat and took a step forwards before dropping them again.

Chester's voice boomed over the speakers. “What did you do?”

Harry raised his eyebrows slightly. “In simple terms, I helped a friend.” There was a small clicking noise. Somebody had activated the feed in his eyes. He looked up briefly, rolling them slightly to let Eggsy know that he wasn't impressed at his tech being hacked. And by someone who claimed not to be able to pilot a ship, at that.

“And I suppose you're expecting us to simply forget about this little ordeal?”

“Sounds good to me.”

There was a pause in time, and Harry felt as though he was next to Eggsy for a moment, saying goodbye, seeing the decision being made from where he might have been standing next to him, and then... “Your legacy will be most distinguished, Galahad.”

He managed a brief twinge of regret, at Merlin, at Roxy, and most of all that Eggsy was watching, before they shot him.

 

************************

 

Harry's face looked tired. “Why is Eggsy there?” he asked. “Why are you showing me this?”

“We're not,” said the voice. “Always wonder about that one. It wouldn't have been glamorous, true, but you were healthy, capable, and being on the run isn't the worst fate a man could have… you might have let your compatriots deal with the situation, involving King's betrayal. Interesting, the things people will do in search of a better life.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry, annoyed again. And he had a headache. Seeing himself get shot was driving home his imminent fate and it felt as though his body was preparing him.

“You'll see,” and he was immediately pulled into another vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear this whole thing isn't just an excuse to kill Harry over and over again, leaving Eggsy in desperate situations where it would be great if Harry didn't die throughout all of time. *ahem*
> 
> Comments and criticisms are super welcome (also please point out any spelling/grammar/etc mistakes, my brain can only see so much and I appreciate it Mimi, despite my grumpy face at my mistakes).


	3. World War One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter before I fly to London. Will be dilligent and super productive whilst there so there will only be a couple of days wait.

_The River Somme – 1916_

Harry and Eggsy were arguing, the former calmly and with heavy disappointment edged into every word, and the latter loudly, not caring who heard.

“You throw away your biggest opportunity over a fucking dog.”

“You'd leave a dog to die because of a fucking order?” shouted Eggsy. It had been a trapped little thing, undernourished and wheezing. They had been huddling in a demolished village when Eggsy had seen it, desperately trying to get free of the barbed wire that encased it.

“Yes, of course. It's not going to survive this war, and you'll be be demoted, or worse, and for what?”

Eggsy stuck out his chin, making himself slightly taller. “Because Charlie's a lying prick. I was never drunk on duty and I didn't put anyone in danger except myself! King's just -”

“- I can't defend every one of your actions, everyone here knows that I knew your father. I've already been accused of favouritism.” Harry's face seemed to harden, even as his voice grew less emotional.

“So you're going to let them? Fucking -” he turned to leave the tent.

“Eggsy, come back here.” The words were said slightly louder and Eggsy froze for a second before turning, arms twitching at his side, expression defiant. “I didn't give you permission to leave,” continued Harry, and then stopped for a few seconds, eyes softening with his tone. “Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay him?” It hurt him to say it, but Eggsy needed to give it up. Whatever was going on between them. It wouldn't help Eggsy's case if he was accused of immorality as well, and with his openness it would only be a matter of time before somebody accused the both of them.

Eggsy looked down, shamed and disappointed, and Harry was about to say something when a whistle blew. Eggsy looked up again. “Harr- _sir,_ I'm so sorry, I'm gonna do -”

“You should be,” interrupted Harry, shortly, hurriedly gathering his things. “You stay right here and I'll sort out this mess when I get back.” He'd be damned if Eggsy was passed for promotion for showing kindness. It might be seen as a weakness in a soldier, but in a man – and in Eggsy in particular – it was something to be rewarded, and preserved. Still, his habit of risking his life more than necessary…Harry would never forgive himself if he didn't at least try to protect him, even after recruiting him to the war effort in the first place. Even after… He brushed past him without another word, too rushed to say anything else, but looked back briefly at where Eggsy was exiting his tent slowly, looking as though he was in a daze. Then he appeared to shake away the conversation from his shoulders, straightened up, picked up his rifle, and walked to his group, and Harry lost sight of him in the mess.

 

************************

 

They had met when Eggsy was a child, the first time. His father had worked underneath him and they had been friends, friends enough that he knew all about his wife and child at home. He had met Eggsy and told him that his father had died, had given his mother his contact details, should they require his assistance some time in the future. Then he had left.

 

************************

 

The second time had been while Eggsy had been in police custody. He had been 23 then, seventeen years after that Christmas, and roughed up from beatings. Harry hadn't asked which had been from home, the streets, while under arrest. Had only offered him a job in the army, with some decent pay and a promise that if he was prepared to adapt and learn, he could transform. Eggsy had taken him up on his offer, and Harry had left him alone a second time, confident that he would sort himself out while in training, and too busy to watch over him.

 

************************

 

The third meeting had been at a general court martial. Eggsy had punched his CO. Harry had taken him directly under his wing, this time determined to get it right. Chester King, head of the panel of officers in charge of sentencing, had not been happy.

It had been working for some time. Eggsy, grateful enough to keep his head down and avoid further possible retribution, had come far under his mentorship – a generally unheard of ascension up the ranks. King had been unable, despite his best efforts, to find anything further to fault him with while training as an officer cadet (Harry knew that he had gotten into a fight with several of the others who had insulted his parentage, but he and a helpful young nurse had hushed up the mess. At this point his reasons for helping Eggsy had been purely selfish, he had admitted to an eyebrow-raised Merlin, who hadn't enquired further).

They had been on leave together for twenty-four hours before Eggsy's last mission had gone tits up. It had been… intimate. It had been Merlin's suggestion that he take him home for the night, and he had asked him - "a drink, my place?" - but in the end it had only been the one, and Eggsy had slept in the guest bedroom. The end.

And yet, Harry realised as he was about to go over the top, he'd had a second chance in that tent, to say or do something, and now he was regretting the words that he had chosen. He had never before denied himself like this. He hoped he'd have the chance again. Next time he would get it right.

 

************************

 

The battle was raging, the line was lost, and around him lay the dead and the dying in clothes so muddied that it was impossible to tell who belonged to which side.

He had spotted Eggsy briefly, right before the whistle had blown, but all had disappeared into the heat and screams and madness and now he was merely trying to organise a few of his remaining men into something resembling a line.

And then he saw him out of the corner of his eye. Not far from where he was, with a determined and frightened expression on his face. They caught each other's eyes for a brief, endless second, before Harry purposefully turned away again and took a step forward, ignoring the pang of want that made him almost walk over to him instead. The next second the bullet ripped through his skull.

 

************************

 

Harry lurched back, breathing heavily for a few seconds before regaining his control. “ _What is this?”_ he demanded, trying not to let his eyes flicker around the circle wildly, trying to steady himself. He was in control. Even when he wasn't.

The voice sounded impatient. “You _still_ don't know? Usually you're much better, or do you enjoy this? There are plenty more to watch if you do, we always got the feeling that you were a bit of a masochist.”

“Are you going to tell me? Otherwise you can send me back now.” His body stood straight and his tone had turned to the excessively aggressive politeness that usually preceded a fight. Except there was nobody here to hit and he wasn't keen to move beyond the circle. Something told him that nothing was out there except darkness.

“Oh, _Harry...”_ and it was the pity that terrified him, “don't you remember what you did?”

He was slowly remembering, but to admit it now would mean that he was going to die in Kentucky. At least like this he could stall the inevitable. “I don't,” he lied.

And he was tossed back again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, punching your CO could lead to death by firing squad. Stop doing these things to yourself Eggsy.
> 
> Harry in this one is hinted to be someone with a lot of power, definitely blue blooded (although everyone with a vaguely fancy English accent has a father/mother who're dukes/duchesses and are in line to the throne in some form or other. England is weird). Eggsy, on the other hand, obviously had pretty much the same upbringing as in the movie and generally you didn't get an awful lot of a chance around the beginning of the war to be an officer if you weren't a little on the fancy side - those boarding school upbringings youknow (after everyone started dying, things got a little more muddy). He obviously started as a private, but Harry wanted good things for him (as he tends to want) and had a little more leverage in this timeline than in the previous two, being neither condemned, nor a fugitive. Hope that turned out okay after he died.


	4. Post-Anarchy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, so I stopped writing for like a year and a half, but what do you know, here's a chapter. Got the last two finished as well, because I refuse to suddenly not be able to write again and leave this here for another long period of time. Going to post the fifth one in the next week and the last after I've seen the second movie (so on the 21st).

_The Battle Of Crogen – Wales, 1165_

 

Harry was sitting astride his horse, visor up to survey his particular troops. It had been a long, slow sludge through the hilly countryside, followed by a series of disappointing skirmishes in the forests of Ceiriog Valley in which they had been assailed again and again by unseen forces that lurked between the trees. And now it had started to rain. He sighed and removed his helm, tipping his head up to feel the droplets cool and calm, before dismounting and walking to where Geraint seemed to be in a much better mood.

Geraint – Eggsy, as he had been nicknamed for a particular reason that he had never told Harry about – was his most trusted and loyal knight. He had overseen his ascension through the ranks personally, from when he had been a young, angry man with no commitment to anyone, to now, a few years later and entertaining some of the other men with juggling and a laugh. He often rode without armour, preferring the ease of mail or simple leather coverings that he could move in. Harry let him have his own way, as he did with all things.

By contrast the rain was making his armour plates shine as though recently polished, as well as causing his ever-disobedient hair to spring into more ferocious curls than usual. Eggsy had many times over claimed him to be “the knightiest knight” that he had ever seen and it was true, he was often placed to the front of military processions as an example of Arthur's, and consequently the king's, superior strength. Lately he had been teasing Eggsy back that he looked like the Greek Heroes, Achilles, Perseus, Theseus. He always spoke the names lightly, not letting Eggsy see in his expression the way his heart twisted around those comparisons, allowing Eggsy to deny it all with a beaming blush, for which Harry would challenge all the Gods in order to see forever.

Eggsy was never meant to be a knight. Where he had noble lineage on his father's side it had all gone to waste after his death, until Harry had found him, trained him as his squire, and brought him with him to all battles and campaigns since then. Arthur had not approved, but then again, he and Arthur rarely saw eye-to-eye these days.

This place, for example. Harry had been wary of coming to Wales even the first time, had held back from the slaughtering of villages and farms, and had left as soon as he could do so without angering the king. Returning, after years of the king's influence being slowly but surely driven out again and against such a force as Owain Gwynedd had mustered to the defence of the country, seemed to squander resources on a pointless conquest. More than that, something about this place set Harry on edge, as though he had been here before and something terrible had happened then. He felt as though a memory had been etched from his mind and it was lurking threateningly in the forests at the borders of which they waited for a path to be cleared.

Even seeing Eggsy's spirits high did not lift his own and he retreated from the main fold to sit and survey the troublesome landscape, as though his eyes could pierce through it to gauge their enemy. He heard footsteps coming from behind him, and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword whilst turning to see who it was.

“Promise I'm not here to kill you,” said Eggsy, smile in his voice.

Harry relaxed, slightly. “Are we moving on?”

“Five minutes, just got the message. You feel it too then?” He sat down next to him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know,” said Eggsy. “Something about this place. Feels... strange to spill blood here. Like it's holy.”

Harry went back to looking out, rather than study Eggsy's face. “Yes,” he said finally. “But some holy places welcome blood. As sacrifice.”

He could feel Eggsy's gaze upon him. “You talk like you know,” he said.

“I... have travelled a lot, even before I met you. But nothing like this. I do not know, it's probably nothing.”

There were shouts from behind them and Harry tore himself from the drowsily bewitching forest and clapped Eggsy on the back. “Let's go,” he said.

Eggsy grabbed his arm suddenly. All good humour from earlier had vanished from his face. His oft-times boyish features had transformed into something worried and hesitant, older than his years. “Harry... just be careful.”

It was Harry's turn to be the lighter of the two, a faint smile ghosting upon his face in appeasement. “I have my friends with me, you, Arthur.

Eggsy grimaced. “Arthur's a fucking snake. Wouldn't trust him at my back any more than the people we're about to face.” He abruptly returned to his younger, handsome self without a grin and a wink. “Lucky I've got you to protect my blind-side then, eh?”

They both stood and walked back to the horses, clasping arms before mounting and beginning the march through the path that had been cleared by the king's woodmen. They would meet up with them in a short while and replace the old vanguard to shield them from attacks, allowing the main bulk of the army to pass through without hindrance when the time came. “You'd think,” said Eggsy lightly, “that when the very land is against you coming here, you'd get the hint.”

It was only treasonous enough for men to laugh with him, although a few muttered dark things that Eggsy clearly did not mind. Harry knew that both during and after his move up the ladder, Eggsy had been subject to many a rumour, as had the nature of their relationship. It wasn't unheard of for young men to offer their services in exchange for rank and with Eggsy's physical attributes being so pleasing it would make sense for Harry to be attracted to him. The fact that he _was_ attracted to him didn't detract from the disgust he felt at their assumptions of both of their characters, but a denial was as good as an admittance. Why protest at good-natured sport if there was anything to hide in the first place, was a common thought amongst the army and the court. Better to conduct ones affairs privately and allow mild-mannered gossip, provided it remain mild.

The path through the forest had gone down and into a valley when they reached the others. A great dyke ran across the floor, spanning as far as the eye could see in both directions. It had been quiet, they were told. No attacks since the woodmen had begun to cut. Harry gazed across the landscape. “This would be the perfect place to launch one,” he said. “They have higher ground, knowledge of the forest, no hindrances of horses or too many men in one area. A relatively small force could defeat ours in a short space of time. We need to spread out, now.”

As if his words were the signal, the attack came in that moment.

Arrows flew through the army, many finding their mark in men or horses, and all was madness. Harry drew his sword as the Welshmen came from all around them, and clove through the first surge, horse standing high, both as a symbol and a target. Arthur came to fight beside him and together they left a slew of bodies beneath their horses hooves. In the heat of his own victory, Harry turned his head, expecting the same from the overall battle, but only saw a bloodbath of his own men falling one after another. “The battle is lost,” he said, frantically gazing from one place to the next in search of Eggsy, seeing nothing but muddied, trampled bodies and a frenzy of men and women locked in battle.

“No!” said Arthur. “Not while we yet fight,” and they continued into the middle of the fray. There Harry at last saw Eggsy. He had lost his horse, but managed well on his feet, although he was encircled by many enemies. For a moment Harry almost turned from Arthur to go to him, urged so by some strange terror that came suddenly upon him to be at his side as he had so oft been, but the man himself blocked him.

“Leave the boy!” he said. “He can handle himself. We must rally the men!”

Unwillingly, Harry followed his lead, for a moment seeming to turn the tide to their favour as they fought mercilessly, leaving corpses in their wake.

Little after little though, they were worn down by the mud and the rain, horses slain beneath them and helms lost in favour of better sight. The armour was heavy to manoeuvre in properly in this terrain, and too many from their side were trying to run through the woods, only to be cut down by those who knew them better.

Arthur found himself hopelessly surrounded and Harry picked up the spear of a fallen enemy, throwing it into the back and through the chest of the first of his attackers and following it with his own blade, apparently unstoppable as he saved Arthur from being overwhelmed.

“We cannot hold them back,” grunted Arthur as his sword drove through another, followed by a brief lull in their pocket of the brutal slaughter. “We must retreat whilst we still can.”

Harry nodded. “I'll find Geraint.”

“Some of us must remain, to distract them whilst we escape.”

Harry turned to him in shock. “You're not to make that order!”

“It's the only way!”

“Then you stay,” said Harry.

“You're a blood disgrace,” snarled Arthur and they were assailed again. In the moment that Harry was distracted, Arthur suddenly pushed him off-balance, almost causing him to fall, a danger in this mud whilst wearing armour. Harry kept his balance and swung at him in anger, but the sword flew wide of its mark, giving Arthur an opening to attack again.

Rather than kill him cleanly, Arthur punched him in the face, making him stumble back. “You and your boy will be remembered with admiration,” he said, and ran whilst Harry tried to stem the flow of the blood from his nose.

“You fucking coward!” he yelled, and the spear drove into the unprotected flesh of his calf. He yelled, turning and easily besting the new men who came for him, but unable to do more than limp and rely on his superior arm to stay alive.

He pulled the spear from him with a scream of rage and pain, and just then the world seemed to suddenly go quiet around him. A whisper fluttered through the leaves of the forest, bidding Harry to turn his head, and he did so, seeing it happening slowly, as though the world itself had stopped to let their eyes meet for a moment before the blow, the mutterings of the trees around them the only sound, like ancient Gods calling from far away, words that connected the two. And then Eggsy was struck down before him and fell to the muddied ground, rain falling softly on him and the noises of battle returning in vivid, bloody screams.

“No!” yelled Harry, running towards him without heeding the protest of his leg. He barged through friend and foe alike until he reached the impossibly small shape of Eggsy amongst the dead. He was shaking and grasping at the hole in his stomach as though his own two hands could heal it if he merely held tightly enough.

Harry knelt beside him, pulling his head into his lap, not knowing where to put his hands and kissing his face.

“Eggsy!” he cried, cradling him in his arms and trying hopelessly to stem the blood, shaking him as though he was merely in a deep sleep and needed to be awoken by a prince with a kiss.

But the only answer he received was the faint trickling of blood from the side of his mouth and a rattling breath as he tried to speak.

He looked up to find that he had been abandoned, the remains of the men fleeing through the undergrowth, Arthur dimly visible as he turned one last look towards him that was hard as the steel that had pierced Eggsy, before disappearing. Around him the Welshmen advanced, and he reached for his sword, only for a spear to be rammed through his throat. The blood spilling onto Eggsy's pale, beautiful, dying face.

 

*******************

 

“No, Stop!”

He screamed it out to the dark.

“I don't choose them,” said the voice. “They're randomised, it's just that you have so many that it all gets a little confusing. What was it about this one that pained you more than the others?”

“Eggsy... it was supposed to be me,” said Harry. “Why wasn't it just me?”

“Ahhhh yes, this is usually the time when you give up.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry.

“Well, surely you remember that your actions sometimes leave him on the verge of death as well? Sometimes your bad decisions are all-around terrible and everyone goes down with them, but sometimes it's just him. And then you die in front of him, naturally,” said the voice.

“Why?” asked Harry.

The voice sighed. “You keep asking that question. Every time.”

“And have you ever told me why?”

“No.” The voice now sounded annoyingly like Chester King when he was being smug, making Harry want to punch it.

“Are you ever going to?”

The voice seemed to shrug. “I'm just following orders. I really don't know why you keep messing it up.”

Harry bristled. “We've only just met in this life, there wasn't anything to mess up in the first place. So your divine punishment is rather misplaced, don't you think?”

“It wasn't my fault you spent most of this time in a coma.” The voice was bored now, Harry could tell. They had probably had some variation of this conversation many times before. He could vividly remember now, how one of the first (last?) times he had met Eggsy they had been aboard a ship, millions of planets away. Harry had been in charge of a less than legal pirate enterprise. Eggsy had shot him in the back and he'd been close to death for awhile. Eggsy had visited him in the medical wing during his recovery, except he'd never recovered. Throat cut by hired assassins. Or the times they had met during wars, in which Harry always ended up with Eggsy's surprised and horrified face watching him from across a battle field as an arrow or spear or sword or gunshot or explosion cut him down, how sickness and betrayal and murder and, more than once, suicide had parted them from one another.

“Well... we've waited long enough. It's time for you to see-”

“No!” yelled Harry. “I'm not ready. One more. I can handle one more.” The fear had become paralytic, the idea that he would soon be reborn and forget himself once more, meet Eggsy once more, die before him once more. His life as a kingsman just another of these visions to add to the long list of mistakes he'd made

The voice said nothing and Harry thought it had ignored him, but then he was there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this period in British history. A mess of kings and queens, princes, princesses, dukes, duchesses, all vying for the throne (if you want some awesome women, try Empress Matilda and Eleanor of Aquitane). This battle marked the end of Henry ii campaign of Wales and was a complete disaster for the British.
> 
> For now, I leave you with this amazing gifset, which basically sums up this tale: http://harryeggsy.tumblr.com/post/165075837237/jimhopps-insp 
> 
> and a caution that next chapter has some pretty dark themes in it.


	5. Colony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I'm not ever sure about warnings and the like, but basically this is the chapter for which I tagged "implied dubcon" and "non-descriptive suicide" just a heads up on that (describe what the passages are at the end-note, but is with spoilers so!)

Planet KM-12.19.97, 55th year of settlement

 

He and Eggsy had known one another for two years, were close to the same age and two barracks across from one another, but it had been less of a friendship and more of a cursory rivalry. Harry hadn't yet tried to make good on a single of his daydreams to see if he fucked as rough as he fought, much against his own usual code. But the disappointment of reality would inevitably be worse than his desperate fantasies, and for some reason he was the only one that Harry was unwilling to be let down by.

Not that Harry had fucked _everyone_ in his camp yet, despite the rumours. There was that snivelling Chester King, and Roxy Morton, he'd never even tried them – the first out of vague disgust and the second because she and Gazelle were clearly fooling around and he wasn't invited. Okay, so... _yes,_ Charlie wasn't exactly a lie, once or twice, but only because they disliked each other enough that the sex was almost what he was looking for, and Merlin had occasionally passed by when he wasn't being swamped over in tech, the two of them keeping company, occasionally joined by a third or fourth party.

Eggsy though, no. They studied and trained together occasionally, and were clearly vying for the same position in the eventual final nine candidates to be lifted off this war-torn beauty of a planet, and into the official agency, but they didn't sleep in the same quarters, nor did they usually eat together, share the same breaks, or go on missions together. The closest to him that he tended to get was on the mat, a place where they were fairly evenly matched – Eggsy stronger, but Harry quicker.

The planet was equal parts devastated rock because of the practise of using it as a place to settle disputes off main colonies and on civilisations that didn't have governmental protection, and equal parts lush foliage, clear skies, and shimmering waterfall right next to the main compound. There had been many a joke about how if you pissed off Valentine, you'd be sent over the edge of that drop, but excursions down to the bottom (occasionally led by Harry) found no evidence of any bodies.

Harry's reasons for keeping it professional with Eggsy were all excuses of course. The truth was just that he could survive getting off to how he pictured it would be and retain his friendly animosity, or he could be dissatisfied by how it would likely turn out, and with a grand total of sixty people in this particular barrack there were only so many whose company he could stand on a daily basis. No point in destroying what he had with Eggsy with sex.

That was the idea anyway. Merlin had finally left two rotations ago and he was bored, sitting on a sofa, flipping through the colonisation handbook in his room, and contemplating an off-the-books reconnaissance of the nearby caves that had held possible signs of enemy movement. He hated his free days.

He looked up to the sound of footsteps approaching. Eggsy entered, hands comfortably in his pockets. He seemed a little nervous though.

“Ever heard of knocking?”  
“Only when I'm casing a place to rob,” grinned Eggsy. Harry wasn't entirely sure about his background, but had no doubt that there was truth in his joke. “Seen Rox anywhere?”

“She's out. Four cycle mission,” he answered, sipping his regulation water.

Eggsy took a step forwards. “Not gone with them?”

Harry grimaced. “I'm on leave.”

“Training going alright?”

“Hopefully at least as well as yours.” Harry tried to gauge what was happening, aware that Eggsy tended to keep his emotions on his sleeves and in this case it seemed very much as though he was desperately trying to flirt. From the way he was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, to the wide unrestrained (gorgeous) smile, it was a very fair assessment.

Fuck it.

Harry wasn't known for completely rational decision making when it came to things he wanted. And especially not for denying himself for longer than strictly necessary. He stood, dropping the book on the sofa. “Come with me.”

Eggsy followed very readily.

Harry led him down a lengthy corridor, eventually stopping in front of another door. Eggsy looked at him briefly for confirmation and he nodded. They stepped into an empty smallish room with a full length mirror on the opposite wall. Eggsy frowned slightly as Harry turned on the light and stepped in after him. “Is this it?”

Harry smirked. “Of course not.” And he turned Eggsy around and kissed him. _Good,_ he thought as the other immediately responded. Hadn't been wrong then. He pushed him back against the mirror, closing the door one-handedly behind him while the other snaked around his waist. Eggsy pulled back slightly. “No seriously, you have a room to do this in? We don't get that over in our camp.”

Harry nipped down his neck, zipping down the standard regulation hoodie that Eggsy wore. “Most rooms down here are empty, because they'd expected this to be a settlement, not a war zone. I believe this was meant to be Fitting Room 3. Now please shut up.”

Eggsy laughed. “Don't actually have time for this,” he said. “Need to report in five minutes.”

Harry didn't stop. “I can finish you in under three...”

“Sure about that?”

He traced his hand down the front of Eggsy's sweatpants, agonisingly slow. “Very sure.”

Eggsy laughed again and stopped his explorations by gripping his arm lightly. “Next time. Was actually going for something less intense on the first date.”

Harry drew back. “Date? That's an outdated concept, wouldn't you say? I read about those practises in history books.”

“Thought it applicable this time around. I was hoping to ask if you wanted to do something more than get beaten up by me on the mat. Go for a walk, sneak something to eat outside the mess hall.”

“That's... arrangeable,” said Harry, surprising himself. Since when did that sound like something he'd enjoy?

“Great.” Eggsy beamed and left him with a kiss on the cheek and a nervous fluttering in his stomach that he hadn't even been aware that he was capable of feeling.

 

************************

 

“You're a fucking machine, Hart,” grumbled Charlie, rubbing his arm where Harry had twisted it around whilst forcing him to the mat.

Harry gave the barest essence of a smug grin, working his jaw to keep it in place under the scrutiny of the instructors. It was evaluation time again, the third and last of the tests to see who would join the elite and who would be designated grunt soldier for the rest of their lives, getting shipped off to one of the platoons that fought in the more dangerous regions here, or perhaps even further out to the edge colonies as a guard.

The first and second trial periods had taken away most of the students, Merlin predictably headed towards stardom with his double-edged sword of being a tech-head and having excellent fighting techniques. He remembered a few others, Sophie, Tilde, Amelia, had all passed, James had been killed during one of the test missions – test being a word meaning that you were sent into actual battle, but you weren't paid in credits at the end of it. Digby, Rufus, infantry. Those that remained were amongst the youngest of the recruits and therefore merited more time to prepare, even if they had been here for as long as the others.

Harry was doing well, he knew. Roxy had given him a clap on the back and called him a prodigy, Eggsy had winked at him when he'd been assigned as his quarter's team-leader. And today he and Eggsy were going to fight in front of the evaluators. Not that Harry was worried, they were both some of the few who stood miles ahead of the others. Harry had done the calculations and they were a certainty, along with Roxy, Gazelle, Arthur, Anjali, probably Jamal, Adeola and then the last spot was anyone's guess. Charlie, maybe. Ryan or Britney or Halvik. Definitely none of those thugs who followed Dean around like his loyal puppies, nor the man himself. Too brutish for much ambition.

He and Eggsy faced each other as friends rather than rivals today, both in unspoken agreement that they would make this fight look good for the both of them.

Harry received the first edge, managing to slip under Eggsy's defences and go straight for his legs rather than wrestle his superior strength, toppling him to the mat, but Eggsy immediately wrapped them around him, bringing his face distractedly close to his crotch – no doubt his intention, the bastard. Well, Harry could play that game very well, although usually it involved less clothes. Leveraging his foot under Eggsy's armpit and pulling at his sleeve whilst pushing away, he broke the hold, twisting Eggsy around so that he was on his front and gripping him around the throat and neck. At the same time he pushed himself against him, letting Eggsy's backside feel that he was well past half-hard at this point in proceedings. Eggsy let out a startled laugh, managing to break free and they were once again facing one another, this time panting heavily and with matching suggestive smiles on their faces as to how to celebrate their upcoming freedom from this place.

Eggsy won in the end, mainly because if Harry had one flaw, it was to allow lust to overcome caution and he ended once again with his face and Eggsy's groin far too close, seeing as this was a situation that still involved being fully dressed. This time Eggsy had him on his back, kneeling on top of him and using both his legs and a tight grip to keep Harry's arms in check.

“I could get out of this in a heartbeat,” said Harry in a low voice, as Eggsy lowered his face towards his in a pretence at doubling down his hold.

“I know,” grinned Eggsy.

“Later.”

The instructors finished the match, and a very well executed one, on both sides. To Harry's disappointment Eggsy got off him and he had to remind his dick that it couldn't be in control of every aspect of his life all the time. Elated with their performances throughout the day, they were both relieved from duties and Harry found himself in Eggsy's empty quarters, the rest of his team still being judged. Eggsy lay down on his slim bunk. “C'mere,” he said.

Harry wrinkled his nose. “We're both very sweaty. You're going to have to sleep in that.”

Eggsy shrugged. “Slept in worse.”

Harry overcame himself, Eggsy being more important than his dislike of dirty bedclothes that probably wouldn't be washed before they were both gone from here (there was a reason that Harry's trysts never happened where he slept), and lay down next to him. Eggsy immediately wrapped an arm around him and pulled him closer, lest either of them fall over the edge. In honour of avoiding that, Harry promptly entangled his legs into Eggsy's. Having barely seen Eggsy in private since their first rendezvous there was something exhilarating about the proximity. Their strange relationship seemed to have gone so fast, but so slowly all at once, with how they had been circling one another for the last couple of years, only to fall straight into bed, if not in the way Harry usually did with a partner.

It was funny, he had thought only five minutes ago that his next plan was to get the both of them naked and even more sweat-drenched than before, but now that he had him to himself he didn't want to move, much less suggest they have sex. Eggsy for his part seemed in agreement, because he closed his eyes and just moved impossibly closer. His hair tickled Harry's nose, but he didn't want to move.

“Looking forward to this when I'm not afraid any of my twenty damn roommates is going to run in and ruin it any second,” mumbled Eggsy.

Harry rumbled out a soft laugh. “Privacy. Can you imagine.”

“S'long as you're there.”

Harry's pulse rocketed as though they were doing something far more strenuous than talking. He was sure it would burst from his chest. “I'm not going anywhere,” he promised.

 

************************

 

The next day the orders began to come in. One after the other the last of the students were told what their fates would be. And the nine coveted slots were filled. Roxy, Anjali, Arthur, Jamal, were the first to come out, elated and deservedly proud. Then Charlie and Ryan unexpectedly both received a slot in the afternoon, and by evening meal Britney came in with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. Harry waited for Eggsy, but he wasn't there. Neither was Gazelle. He had done the calculations, he reminded himself. He was top of the class. He was, he was, he was... something was wrong. He didn't eat a single bite.

Eggsy came running to him after dinner, looking like his wildest dreams had come true.

“I'm shipping out,” said Eggsy. “Special mission and all, I've gotta go in a couple of hours.”

“You're...?”

“Yeah. Got my orders a few minutes ago, you're the first one I'm telling.”

“.. Right,” said Harry. “Well, congratulations.”

Eggsy noticed his tone. “You'll get 'em. You're the best recruit here, swear without you half of us wouldn't've made it through. Bet they're just keeping you around for the new ones so you can give them a speech and then fuck right off this hellhole.”

Harry offered him a small smile, unwilling to entertain hope, but not wanting to discuss it further. Eggsy took it without sensing his underlying anxiety, leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. “I've gotta inform my CO so they can start the moving process. See you after, yeah? I'm not leaving until we've sorted out where we're gonna meet once you've joined up.”

He nodded and Eggsy practically bounced off.

Harry headed straight for the main compound.

 

************************

 

Valentine oversaw the enlistment of the top nine recruits and was generally considered the father of the Agency, as well as paradoxically a speaker against violence. _A human approach_ was the tagline for the military program, a concept where conflicts were settled off the battlefield, using technological advances and top psych evaluated agents, resulting in minimal, if any, civilian casualties – well, none that were legal anyway.

He was generally not seen except for on important occasions, such as first and last days and if anyone were to die. Going to him for anything was not allowed under any circumstances.

Harry entered his office without knocking. It was a large affair, tables and machinery scattered haphazardly across the floor, with no personal artifacts such as pictures in sight anywhere.

At the far end stood a door.

“Hart, you're finally here,” said Valentine. “Usually you're much quicker.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Step this way and I'll explain it all to you.” He gestured towards the door and Harry found that he had walked halfway across the room before noticing what he was doing.

The door stood open, enticingly so, and the room beyond was dark. Harry found himself wanting to know what lay within, but something suddenly and viciously recoiled from his first instinct to move towards it, a physical revulsion towards its unknown contents. He shuffled half a step back when Valentine wasn't looking.

“Sir. You know Gazelle and I are the best members of your team, I don't understand why we're fighting for the last spot when we should have been the first to be signed on,” he said, trying to sound briskly confident.

“... Why're you coming to me with this?” said Valentine. He seemed mildly confused.

“Because...” he hadn't prepared himself for this, for anything really. And that damn door was distractingly present just a few metres away. “You want the best. I've been consistently at the highest ranking, I've passed every test, every evaluation, I'm... I need this. It's all I've ever wanted.”

“Oh, neither your or Gazelle are being stationed off-world, I thought that was obvious,” said Valentine. Then he frowned. “Usually you don't take it this hard.”

“What?”

Not leaving. Eggsy was going to be gone in a couple of hours, but he was staying behind. Every dream he'd entertained, his whole future life, torn down with a casual dismissal.

“Harry, don't you know?”

From out of the room there came a sound, and Harry was jerked out of his reveries towards it, like seeing a shadow in the darkness and thinking it's a monster. It was Gazelle. She exited, looking coolly from Valentine to Harry, like they were both strangers.

“What don't I know?”

The frown deepened. “You're really fighting it this time, huh.”

“Just fucking tell me what's going on.” The desperation in his voice both angered and frightened him. He needed to convince Valentine somehow, despite whatever he was about to tell him, he needed to find a way to change his mind-

And then Valentine told him and he knew, he was never going to be allowed to leave. Eggsy would go on and eventually forget about him and Harry... Harry would forget far sooner.

“You're... a machine, Harry. You were built when this settlement first began, to interpret the needs and attend the well-being of the other candidates. At first it was just a rudimentary design, able to ask and fulfil assignments, but obviously non-human. Then we discovered that our candidates responded better to a more lifelike companion, someone who could calculate what was needed before they knew it. Be it a sparring partner, a lover, a friend, a leader. Because of you our results have sky-rocketed, you're our most valuable asset. Took me fucking years to get right as well, you're a fucking phenomenon.” He sounded like he was praising himself more than Harry.

“So, I... don't have a choice? I'm programmed to... everything I've done.” He could feel the ground shifting, pulse raging enough to make him feel like his whole head was throbbing, and feeling so very, very real, despite Valentine's claims.

“Relax, Harry,” said Valentine. “We go through this every time, and every time you accept it. All you have to do is let me-” he reached for him, but Harry shook him off.

“Do _what?”_ he said. “What do you do to me?”

“It's simple. Just a small reset and you'll be ready for the next team. Through that door.”

Reset.

No memories of who he was, of _what_ he was.

No memories of Eggsy.

That was impossible to accept.

“Harry.” Valentine began to look over his calculations. “This isn't right,” he muttered. “Gazelle-”

Gazelle stepped forward and Harry realised. It was obvious, she was just like him, just...

“Gazelle,” said Harry. “What about Roxy?”

“Roxy?” she said. “Who is that?”

He took another few steps back.

And he turned and ran. “Stop-” Valentine called after him, but he didn't heed the command. Whatever programming had lured him to that office, whatever it was in Valentine's voice that forced him to obey, he was getting as far away from it as possible. Maybe if Valentine couldn't find him he'd be able to shake the constant draw of the open door from his mind, maybe-

“Harry!”

He stopped, despite his brain screaming at him to continue to run.

“Eggsy,” he said. He was panting, but sounded surprisingly calm, like this was a night-time jog and not a sprint away from his captors.

“Harry, what are you doing?” said Eggsy.

“I have to get away from here,” said Harry, still in a pleasantly courteous voice. Maybe Eggsy was in on it, maybe he was a fail-safe, maybe...

“I'll help you,” said Eggsy.

There was a sound behind them.

Pursuit.

Harry quickly dragged Eggsy into the undergrowth, both of them staying completely still as footsteps hurriedly passed them by. At last they were alone.

Harry sighed. “Eggsy, you don't understand-”

“I do! Fuck, Harry the moment I realised you hadn't been called for enlistment I knew something was up and I broke into head office. I found your records, I know what you are,” he said. “Harry I don't care about that-”

“You should. You don't know what it means.”

“I do, Harry. You're still whoever the fuck you are, don't matter how you came by it.”

“They'll be looking for me.”

Eggsy didn't even hesitate. “I don't care. Harry, I don't care, I'm a good fucking pilot, I can get us out in seconds. And then it's just you and me.” He put his hands on Harry's shoulder's, holding tightly, as though he'd never let go. Harry recalled how happy he had been when he had told him about his orders, how he'd worked and scraped for these two years, how Harry knew little about his past, but that Eggsy's determination spoke of having come from having nothing to where he was now. And then he thought how Eggsy had left him to immediately go and find out what had happened, pretending all was well for Harry's benefit, but now throwing it all away for the same.

“Eggsy...” his voice was flat and strangely, so were his emotions. “There's no you and me,” he said. “Everything you know of me is a program. I was _built_ to be able to seduce you, and anyone else on this compound. And when you're long gone there's going to be another foolish recruit who thinks they're in love. You're not, trust me.”

Eggsy's hands withdrew, but Harry memorised their touch.

“Harry...”

“No!” he said roughly. “I'll take care of this. Consider this a warning that you don't make the same mistake again. Love is an obstacle in your line of work. That's what I was meant to teach you.” He abruptly stood and turned to go, but Eggsy stopped him, gripping his hand.

“Harry, don't go back there.”

“You should never have fallen in love with me.”

The touch of Eggsy followed him all the way back to the compound, where he dimly heard the sounds of people running towards him, guns being pointed, bright lights illuminating the path he walked, everyone watching. They were of another world, unimportant, small. Whatever was being shouted at him didn't enter the circuitry of his brain. The only thing he saw and heard was the path ahead of him. Without sensing anything he walked to the edge of the drop, the glittering pearls of the waterfall seeming to linger in the air like fairies.

He turned when he reached it, seeing shadowed, blurry images of all those who were chasing him.

And he toppled over backwards.

As he did, everything seemed to stop for a moment, as he caught Eggsy's eye in the otherwise unrecognisable crowd. He smiled, and then all that existed was the fall.

 

************************

 

There was a long silence in the aftermath.

Finally the voice spoke.

“Funny.”

“Funny?” spat Harry.

“Yes. You almost had that one. It was an interesting scenario, considering your choices. You won't remember, but I do. You came to me as you were falling, but there was still a chance, one not often provided when you're about to die. You could hit the water and your reinforced skin would protect you from much damage. He could find you there, Valentine believing you nothing but broken machinery, and you could leave, both strong, well-trained, with a universe at your fingertips. But you didn't take it. When I asked you why not, you said that you despised yourself, that you wanted to forget this one more than any other. That you were broken by virtue of not being human, as if that's any measure of worth. It was... hard to understand, but from what I gathered, you had realised that there were two options: Either you would eventually become obsolete and you would have to find replacement parts, eventually looking less like the image that you had been physically created as, or you would see Eggsy age and die whilst you remained young and strong. In both cases you would reveal yourself as a fraud and he would leave you and seeing as he was all that mattered, you wanted to “free him” from the obligation. And that was before you even knew that you would come back in some other time. After that I couldn't persuade you to stay with any words at all and you broke onto the rocks. It's a tendency with you, Harry. To think that you're not good enough for some reason. But you let go of the _universe._ ” It was very disappointed.

“I need to see the first time,” said Harry. His voice came out quiet and terrified. This was something that he knew, but couldn't remember, some unseen demon hiding just out of sight. Once he found out why he would have to go back to the church. This was the end stop of his eternal Sisyphean punishment, before he was forced to begin rolling the rock up the hill again.

The voice sighed heavily. “Here we go again. Always back to seeing the first step and you always hate it. You never learn, you know. You never grow from your former mistakes. One of these lifetimes I'm just going to leave you here to rot.” Another sigh. “And I am becoming just as obvious, I threaten you with that every time. And every time-”

“-I say that perhaps the dark would be preferable company?” Harry almost smiled, like he was sharing a joke with an old friend. In a way, he was.

“You do. Well, come on.”

Nothing changed. He was still in the circle.

Except.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Close to the end! I cannot believe it took me this long to finish this fic, but sometimes life's a bitch, as we all know.
> 
> Harry is an AI designed to take care of recruits at an off-world army barracks. He clearly enjoys the relationships he forms, both sexual and non-sexual and falls in love with Eggsy, but at the end of each circulation he has his mind wiped for the next batch of recruits, meaning he begins to doubt his own emotions. Eggsy offers to run away with him, but rather than ruin Eggsy's life (as the egg has a bright future in front of him) he jumps off the edge of a cliff, reasoning that he's only a machine after all.


	6. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Finished! I hope everyone enjoys and.... I am sorry... about all the wait. Also minor spoilers for the trailer of Kingsman 2 I guess?

Something was different.

The voice was no longer with him he sensed, and beyond the burning lights he could now dimly perceive grass and trees. On the other side of the woods lay a village. It was small, only twenty-four inhabitants, including himself. He had long ago given up battle against the Romans when he had lost his eye, and had taken to wandering in search of a peaceful life. This village had merely been one of many that he had been about to pass on the way, but its solitude had strangely called to him that something was there that he would never wish to part from again.

He had been the first person that he had met.

A young, strong man, gazing belligerently at him under his long eyelashes from the path as he made his way towards the village, at first wary of any stranger that might enter his home. The eyes that had challenged him from that path had been what he was looking for, he now understood. From the way the young man's look had cleared as he approached, like a storm passing from calm seas, he sensed the same.

They had barely ever parted since that day, herding the sheep together in the hills, sometimes not seeing another person for months on end beyond the two of them, entwined as one. Heriwald was content to let those days and nights last forever in the arms of Gwaredd, who had once upon a time been given the nomer of Eggsy and who called him Hari on that first day that they had met and from that day since. It was the only name he now wished to be known under. On many days Eggsy kissed next to the scars of his unseeing eye, murmuring that he would heal him in this way, and although Hari had never fully understood what he meant, the memories of another lifetime faded with the years that they were together.

Hari stood in the circle now because Eggsy was dead. As all things that could not last, his peace and his love had been shattered by a sudden attack on the defenceless village and all had been slain. Their aggressors had been wrong, however, to presume that there was nobody there who could fight back. Hari had retrieved his old sword from whence he had buried it and slaughtered all the attackers and then, covered in their blood, he had come to this hill, drawn his circle in the dirt with blood-stained hands, and cursed the gods.

Now he was surrounded by them. They whispered and screeched at him, they asked who dared to address them in this manner and they challenged him to step outside his protective circle if he were so brave. Hari looked at none of them, but was on his knees before them. The tears burned hotly, but the rest of him felt cold and dead as the bodies that he had left behind him.

“I do not wish to challenge you,” he said. “I come to beg. I offer my blood, my soul, my everything if you will let him live.”

The creatures at the edge of the circle seemed interested. “You wish him to be immortal then?”

“I wish to find him in every lifetime and to never have to see him die before me again. I wish to save him.”

There was a roaring laughter. “You think only of yourself! You make this circle with his blood upon your fingers, giving him to us so we may let you find him forever, dooming him to a pain you cannot imagine. We tell you this, but you do not listen...”

The silence reigned and for a moment Hary thought they had abandoned him, was ready to hunt them all down for their betrayal, when-

“... We will help you. But not as you are now, old man, slayer of countless innocents and more corrupt, godless, and wicked. You killed them in our name once and we have feasted upon their blood and gained strength. Turn from your later years of peace and continue to grant us the gift of blood and death and we shall fulfil your desires. But you must do one thing to prove yourself.”

“Anything,” he said.

“Break the circle.”

He broke it without hesitation and they descended upon him, sucking up the blood from the ground and tearing into his flesh.

 

*******************

 

He opened his eyes.

The circle was unbroken.

The black was impenetrable.

He felt his face in blind panic, but both his eyes were whole. It was merely a matter of getting used to the darkness. “I remember,” he said.

“Oh, good,” said the voice, not sounding enthusiastic about it. “And again we're arrive at this point.”

“They did this to us. They set me and Eggsy on a path where I would have to make an impossible decision, dangling the hope of another chance in front of me, knowing I'll always take it. I remember it all. They did this as a curse for daring to ask them.”

The voice let out one prolonged sigh.

“Are you ready to be reborn?”

“Yes. I can get it right next time.” His voice trembled with certainty. He remembered it all now, the Gods had cursed him to die like this for his hubris in demanding their help, over and over, but now he knew he could change it, wherever he and Eggsy met each other next. He could be Eggsy's equal and they could find somewhere to be that didn't come with the violence that Kingsman or any of their other lives had inflicted upon them both.

The voice sighed again, so deeply that the lights flickered and were almost extinguished. Harry felt a heavy wind run through his hair, his jacket flapping.

Harry frowned. “What?”

“You won't remember, in your next life. You will be born, you will some day meet him, and then you will die in front of him. It cannot be changed.”

“Why not?”

“Because you have said that you would do this, every time. And you never do. I ask you, as I have before. Why do you keep punishing him over and over? _Why,_ if you're so desperate to be with him that you made a deal for eternity, do you leave him alone every chance you get?” It suddenly grew vicious, angry. “You curse yourself! And, worse, you curse him by never letting him choose. It's as though you _like_ the savagery of your soul, you certainly haven't been able to move on from it!”

Harry grit his teeth, looking down. “You couldn't understand. I'm not good enough for him. The Gods never let me be good enough.”

“And what makes you think that time will ever come?”

“What?”

“Why do you think he even loves you?”

“Because… he does. I can see he does. He'll wait for me.”

“Would he? If he knew what you'd done?”

“He… yes. Of course. He would understand the logic of it. Looking for the time in which we can finally live in peace.”

“Hmm. You don't seem to do peace very well.”

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“Nothing.”

Harry made a frustrated noise. This was getting him nowhere, as he was sure it had done countless of times before. He turned away from the black void that he had been talking to and instead looked over the expanse of time, the past and the future and now, all those lives that Eggsy had waited for him. Had Eggsy felt, as he did whenever they met, that something was bringing them together? Fate or the Gods, something inevitable. Destined to find one another, but if what the mysterious voice said was true, then it was Harry's fault that they were destined to never be together. Was that all it took? A simple choice to not leave him behind? Did Eggsy feel like he had been chasing him for an eternity, never understanding why Harry didn't stay with him.

A flash of memory.

Eggsy, dying, a faint trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth as Hari killed all those that had attacked them. He remembered now, they had fought about something, about Eggsy wanting to leave the village and Hari wanting to keep him there, and Hari had left, only to regret his harsh words and turn back, but too late. Too late.

Running to Eggsy once the bloodshed was done to hold his hand tightly, leaning down and kiss his forehead and saying “I will save you.”

Turning to the hill and Eggsy dying alone, but bringing him there would have taken too long and would have meant that he would have to watch him die.

The trees whipping against him like flagellation, like they knew he was trying to punish himself. The hill. The circle. Painting it with Eggsy's blood on him. The Gods smelling it on him. All those times after, how he had deemed himself too broken, too old, too abnormal. When the first they had met he had been all those things and Eggsy had never loved him less for it.

He was a coward.

“It's time to make a decision. Live or die.”

Harry's eyes returned to the circle, brought back by the sound of the voice. The darkness was greying faintly, as though somewhere the sun was coming up. He didn't move or speak for a long time. In this lifetime he was older than Eggsy, already beginning to see his temples greying and skin turning looser. He had lamented, during the brief span of time spent together, that Eggsy could not have seen him in his youth and they could have been more equal. Eggsy would have loved him when he was younger, when his brashness was endearing and his limbs looked impossibly long and his hair had been ridiculous.

He drank too much these days he knew, and he had suffered long years of hurt from the field that made it difficult for him to engage in affection, despite his desperation for it. Both, he argued with himself, would drive Eggsy away eventually. He would have no time for a sad, old man, past his glory days, set in his strange ways, impatient, hard to read, harder to love. The likelihood of Eggsy staying with him for long was slim, never mind considering many years together, how he would become thin-haired and stooped whilst Eggsy was still beautiful, vibrant, looking for something more. It was an impossible hope, to think that if he survived the shot to the head, he would ever get to have Eggsy in the first place.

It would never happen.

He sighed. Closed his eyes.

“Live.”

The voice seemed about to say something, but then stopped itself and in cautious surprise said: “Wow. Really? After all this time?”

Harry nodded. “I realise... the Gods punish those who punish themselves,” he said. “I've known that for a long time. And I'll never be good enough for him, but he shouldn't suffer for it.”

“Hm. Well that's a change. But it's too late,” it said. “You're about to be shot in the head. You should have come to this conclusion at least a few seconds ago, the bullet's too close now to miss.”

Harry saw it coming at him through the grey haze. Slowly, the impenetrable night was dimming and the courtyard, the church, Valentine, Gazelle, were all coming back into focus. His feet were suddenly rooted to the spot, arms unable to move, the only thing remaining to him his mouth.

“You never told me I didn't have time!” he yelled. He'd forget all about this again, forget and be born and meet Eggsy and die and be born and die, and die, and die, and maybe never make this choice again.

This was the only time he had the chance.

“I would, but the bullet. You see, it's all completely impossible,” said the voice, apologetically. Now fading away. “Everything comes with a cost, you cannot simply live and be happy. That's not how life works.”

“I see,” said Harry.

And moved his head almost imperceptibly to the right.

Pain exploded through him and then he felt nothing.

 

*******************

 

“ _...No, he blinked, I saw it. Definitely awake – …”_ Nothing.

“ _Was almost gone from us that time, let's see if we can't -”_

“… _I know you can't hear any of this, but it's important that you stay with us -”_ Nothing again.

Different voice. _“- Might need to turn it off...”_ Well that didn't sound good, probably.

He thought that he should probably wake up, but it was a far-off thing, like he was meant to think it, but couldn't quite grasp why.

Whoever it was definitely made it sound like a bad thing that he wasn't so… he ought to do something, he supposed. Like blink. He'd blinked, apparently, and somebody had been excited… blinking. How did you do that? Something was niggling at the back of his mind. What was that, better see what it was… something heavy and unrecognisable and a little terrifying. Still, it was something, so he followed it.

The heaviness increased. He didn't like it. The voices were growing louder though.

“ _Can't be sure of anything, but at this point it's more certain… even if he_ _ **does**_ _wake up...”_ follow the voices. So far so good, even if it really was dreadfully heavy work.

Suddenly everything stopped.

And grew black.

He hadn't been aware of blackness before, but this was definitely black. For a few seconds he was merely interested in that, not entirely sure how to feel emotions enough to realise that he ought to be scared, or at the very least apprehensive.

“Excuse me,” he said into the blackness. Manners, after all. “I believe I'm lost. It would be dreadfully appreciated if someone could assist.”

Nothing for a few seconds, then a slight swishing, like massive wings just beyond what he couldn't see. Whispers and mutters, a far-away screech. Then. Several voices, speaking as one “So. You chose this one.”

Harry – and he suddenly became aware of his having a name – looked around. And remembered all of the times.

The circle, he was back in the circle. “Fuck,” he said to himself. “I thought I survived.”

“You might do,” said whoever was speaking. “We were simply interjecting with a query.”

“Yes? And could you hurry, I don't want them to shut off the machine before I'm let off it.”

“Time doesn't exist. But for your sake… we offer you one last chance to reconsider. You have killed many in your lives, Hariwald, Harry, Galahad... Hari. We have feasted upon those offerings and remained strong although we are almost forgotten, and are grateful. So... we were all just wondering, out of all the times and all your meetings, why this one?”

“What do you mean?”

“There have been several that might have borne more fruit for you to live together for longer. You were younger, stronger, healthier. In some you even had the universe. Yet this is the one. A world filled with uncertainty, in which you do not have much power any more, in which you do not know if he will choose you. It is a fearful place.”

Harry spoke simply. “It reminds me of when we first met. All those aeons ago. Maybe I can yearn for that simple life again, even if he doesn't... but I'll let Eggsy choose what happens. It's the only thing I can do.”

The sounds around him continued, growing and fading, until at last, the unifying voice spoke one last time. “Good choice,” it said and with a whoosh, Harry was alone again.

The blackness faded.

And he woke up.

 

*******************

 

He was in a hospital wing, no.

A cell.

The walls were padded and there was a mirror on the wall, no doubt two-way. How did he know that? A heavy-looking door. It was all white, and made his head ache. Everything looked wrong, too close, too far away. The room was swimming with the way he was trying to focus on it, and none of it looked quite real. He shut his eyes. Or... he felt his right eye shut. He couldn't feel the left side of his face at all. He tested his toes. All in working order. Legs, bending, if tired and heavy. Fingers, arms, turning his head from side to side. He was all there and alive. But something wasn't quite right. He slowly lifted his hand to touch it. Bandaged. Someone had shaved off his hair on the side! That was going to look awful! He wrinkled his nose, but continued his exploration. The bandage was over his eye, some gauze making it feel lumpy. That would explain why he couldn't see. But not... why hadn't he felt it move. Perhaps he was anaesthetized from whatever operation they had performed on him.

He opened his eye again and sat up, feeling dizzy even though he tried to move slowly and carefully. One foot down on the floor. It was as hazy as everything else. He was drugged, clearly, but his eye being covered wasn't doing any favours for his stability. He managed. And the next. Both hands gripping the bed, he slowly began to transfer his weight to his feet. Wobbly, but working. He let go of the bed – one step. And another. Focus on the door. Another step. He held out his arms like he was walking in the dark and having to sense his way forward. They hit the door. No handle, no lock. He pushed, weakly. Nothing. He hadn't expected it to, but one never knew with closed doors.

To the mirror then.

One step. Another. Touch it. Thick glass. He tapped it and opened his mouth. The inside of it felt like camel shit in a desert. He needed a toothbrush and some mouthwash, but not until he sorted out the main issue: Find out where he was.

“Excuse me,” he managed, more of a whisper than anything else, but serviceable, “but I seem to find myself trapped in this room. Perhaps we could rectify the situation.”

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap.

He continued, a slow, rhythmical noise that was oddly calming.

Then the door opened.

A woman stepped in, unfamiliar, bearing a lab-coat and an uneven haircut. “Good to see you awake,” she said, holding out her hand. He stared at it for a few, long seconds, as though he had no idea what it was. Then he blinked and tentatively took it, letting go again almost immediately. “My name is Ginger. You went through quite a shock, Mr...?” She was an American, from her accent. Southern.

“Hart,” he said. “My name is Harry Hart.” That was right. Good. At least one thing was making sense here, even if it was the simplest of things. He opened his mouth to try and sift through his mind for any further information. “I'm a lepidopterist,” he continued. And frowned. That one sat less well with him. But it was true. There was nothing about butterflies he didn't know.

“You are? That's good, we can start looking for your people with that information.” She tapped something on her normal-looking clipboard, as though it was a notepad of some kind. “It might take awhile, after V-day, whew, it's been kinda a mess, both in our offices and out there. Until we do, it'd be safer if you stayed with us Mr Hart. Is there anything you need?”

He looked at the white walls, brow still etched into uncertainty. “I believe I'm meant to be waiting for someone,” he said. “That's why I came back.”

She nodded. “Does this person have a name?”

He struggled, images of a strong chin and expressive eyebrows and a soft mouth tantalisingly blinking in and out of existence, and at last he shook his head. “Can you tell me... about this?” he gestured at the gauze over his eye. She was too late to catch the grimace that slipped out before she forced her face back into pleasant professionalism.

“I'm afraid your accident is going to leave a mark. Your left eye's a goner. But don't worry,” she added quickly, trying to find some form of bedside manner that she clearly wasn't used to, “you're otherwise completely healed, well, apart from the memory thing, of course.” She laughed conspiratorially, but it petered out of existence and into another awkward grimace. “Sorry. This isn't my skill-set, I'm more of a... fixer and handler and mover and... shit, everything that's not human relations. I'm sorry about the eye, we did the best we could. Can get you an eyepatch if you want?”

Harry nodded dumbly.

Ginger took that as her cue to leave, with a quiet, “I'll leave you alone for a bit, just knock on the glass if you want something,” and Harry stood alone again. He touched over the gauze. Strangely, he felt okay. He had felt a brief moment's surprise at not breaking down over the news, but an eye seemed a light price to pay for... and the thought escaped him again, like air in his fist.

Something with someone he'd been in the past, with repaying those who had helped him, a requittal for what he had done, and an eye, well. He could live without an eye. _He had done before,_ his brain said sneakily, but that made no sense, so he didn't follow up on whatever it could mean.

It was a long-ago dream that slipped inexorably from his hands over the next few days, weeks, months but a feeling of it persistently remained, as he drew butterflies and moths on his walls and tried to recall a face to put up there with them. He was certain that the man he was waiting for would find him, eventually.

And this time he would wait for him.

 

 

 

***  _The End ***_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the village in which Harry and Eggsy lived in their first life together was hinted to be on the outskirts of where the later battle of Crogen was held, the woods where Eggsy and Harry died the same ones Harry runs through in order to get to the meeting place of the Gods – was a nifty thing I noticed when writing, because that area was once held by the Romans, and the place where the battle happened is marked by a 1000 year old oak tree called “The Great Oak of the Gate of the Dead” which is the coolest name for a tree ever and definitely sounds holy as fuck. It split in two and died in 2010, but it's still there, standing close to where the fallen of the Battle of Crogen were buried.
> 
> I have... a need sort of... to write an epilogue in which Harry and Eggsy have retired to the countryside after Eggsy finds him again and they've sorted out everything with Kingsman. It feels like they deserve some payoff after literal aeons of not being happy.


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe I should write an epilogue" I said
> 
> "Who knows when that'll be" I said
> 
> "I'm going to the countryside, no time to even write" I said
> 
> I don't recognise this person who's productive, but I'm kind of into it? Here's the epilogue!

Harry still awoke from the strange dreams most nights.

The still air of the bedroom would shiver with the vibrancy of them, far more potent than the usual misty texture of dreams after waking up, as though his life were the lie and he was actually awakening every time he thought he was going to sleep.

The dreams themselves had a tendency of being terrifyingly realistic in their coherent chronological stories. In some he was a soldier in great battles, fighting with swords, guns, bombs, lasers, fists; other times he was a captive or a criminal, condemned in some form or other. In many he was a spy, across what seemed to be all of time and space, once even some form of AI tricked into believing he was flesh and bone. Never did he consider himself to have been an innocent in the events that unfolded. They were always exhilarating, at first. He was on daring missions, heists, in fights, escapes, rescues, always with some great purpose to be fulfilled.

And then he would die.

And he would wake up with a painful jolt in his chest, pulse racing through his body.

Mostly he managed it without a great deal of movement or noise, silently shaking whilst keeping his breathing quiet and shallow, until he was calm enough to slip out of bed and begin his day – usually a long time before the sun had started to rise.

On other nights he couldn't avoid the struggling of his body overtaking his brain's fast-acting self-control and Eggsy would wake up before he did. They never spoke about those nights. Eggsy simply sat and waited patiently to touch his shoulder or arm to remind him tacitly through the heat of his fingers of what reality was.

Harry usually spent those nights or early mornings with Eggsy little by little draping his weight across him, sleepily drawing him out of his head and back into his arms like a living, breathing security blanket. The flimsy, sticky cobwebs of his dreams could never be as substantial as the warm solidity of Eggsy's body, the gentle, steady rise and fall of his chest against Harry's; a boulder standing firm between Harry and his anxieties that they could never budge once he placed himself at Harry's side, no matter how they yelled intrusive lies and fought against Eggsy's open-hearted honesty.

Despite the guilt, Harry loved lying in bed with Eggsy like that. Far better than those flimsy tearable mornings watching the dew and the mists in the garden and the countryside beyond dissipate like so many sparkling, hazy fogs that his own mind conjured up, wondering if this was yet another dream from which he was about to be roused.

He always worried, while he tottered around the kitchen to make tea, read, and prepare for the day's events, that the man in the next room was as fictitious as so many other versions of him that he had seen in his head, appearing and then disappeared by the time Harry blinked awake. He would prepare breakfast and steadfastly ignore the growing gnawing sensation until Eggsy at last would totter in at a less ungodly hour to the smell of whatever Harry had made, and every time Harry would be unable to contain a small sigh of relief before kissing him soundly awake. Dream-Eggsy kissed nothing like Real-Eggsy.

 

*******************

 

It had been far worse before his memories had returned. He had known very little about himself, except that his name was Harry Hart and he liked dogs and to study butterflies. The Monarch was his particular favourite. Its black and gold pattern triggered a yearning in him that he couldn't explain, except he often randomly associated it with a handsome face and a horrible jacket that always trickled through the gaps in his mind when he tried to fixate on the details: A wide, mischievous smile with a gap between two sharp teeth in the side. An adidas logo. Arched eyebrows, with a scar in one marring the symmetry of them.

And every night the dreams.

Before his memories and along with them his iron will returned to him he used to scream as he awoke, unable to stave off the fits and the crying. The people who held him in the padded cell gave him meds to calm down and asked him to talk about the dreams, trying to see what clues they held to who he might be. But they, like him, couldn't understand what all the different, intricately detailed narratives, set across all of time and space, could possibly mean. They ruled them as a symptom of PTSD and kept his sleep monitored.

Later, when he was found and his memories restored to him they very suddenly stopped bothering him and he hoped that whatever was causing the nightmares might have been ejected along with the rest of his brain damage.

And then came the night that Eggsy first kissed him.

 

*******************

 

Elton John sent him two tickets to a concert and Harry asked Eggsy the very same day during lunch if he would be busy.

He had been torn all morning between a complete certainty that Eggsy would accept and a bordering on paralysing fear that his hubris was about to severely teach him a lesson.

It seemed however that fortune was out to favour the brave in matters of the heart today, Eggsy – wide-eyed as though shocked that Harry was asking him – giving an excited “ _yes, Harry,”_ that was loud enough for several other café-goers to give a disapproving or confused glance in their direction. It was followed by a wink aimed over Harry's right shoulder and when he turned to look a badly incognito Roxy casually turned her thumbs-up into checking her nails. All of this was adding up to making Harry wonder if he hadn't stepped into an alternate universe in which he was much younger and currently residing in a teen romcom.

The irrational butterflies in his stomach as he waited outside Eggsy's apartment did nothing to disabuse himself of that notion, although his earlier bathroom pep-talk as he had run his fingers over the grey hairs and crows-feet had been somewhat sobering to the idea that he could possibly be considered _young_.

When Eggsy at last came out with an expression of elated excitement and a _“looking good, Harry_ ,” he realised that he needn't have worried. Eggsy seemed to have had a bathroom self-help talk as well.

After the concert and a surprisingly simple and mellow drink with Elton, the two found themselves in a pub that neither of them had frequented before, sharing a few more and getting completely pissed.

Trying not to stumble, they made their way back to Eggsy's using public transport rather than taking a cab; Harry hadn't stepped foot in a tube station in years, except to chase down a few suspects, so Eggsy deemed it vital that he relearn what it was like to exist in actual society.

The inside of the carriage smelled of the kind of mustiness and alcohol that post-pub late-nighters always brought with them, and they earned themselves a couple of wolf whistles from an uproariously happy gang of kids after Eggsy half-draped himself across Harry for sleepy support. “That's what we get for the trouble of educating me,” said Harry, and Eggsy nodded happily against his shoulder.

Outside Eggsy's door the both of them paused. The ease of the rest of the evening had dissipated somewhat into a nervous expectancy, although clearly neither knew exactly how to approach it. Eggsy gained courage first, naturally. “'Nother drink?” he offered. “Unless this weren't meant to be that kind of night, which is fab as well, obviously, but thought I'd ask, you know.”

He spoke quickly, the rush of words mixed with the headiness of the evening and the alcohol meaning that Harry needed a few seconds for them to penetrate and by then Eggsy had drawn his own conclusions. “That was me getting the wrong end of the stick, alright, got it. Hope I didn't make this too awkward now, was kinda hoping to end this in a good way, cos the rest was aces Harry.”

“Eggsy,” Harry finally got in edgeways. “It's not that kind of night, no-” he began, and Eggsy interrupted again, more of a babbling drunk to Harry's deliberately slow-speaking one.

“Yeah, no, read you loud and clear on that one Haz, I'm just gonna go in and have a really embarrassed pity wank now, so-”

“ _Eggsy.”_ Thank goodness the tone of voice finally shut him up. “I want to do this properly. I'm not interested in letting this be a single evening and a fuck and I don't wish to cause any confusion as to my intentions.” At Eggsy's gratifyingly dumbfounded expression he added helpfully: “I want to court you.”

“So... like real dating?”

“That was the idea, yes.”

“With flowers and shit.”

“Next time I'll bring the flowers.”

“And then eventually we fuck, but because we've both got blue-balls by then it's... better?”

“Sex was included in the grand scheme of things.”

Eggsy frowned. “Well, fuck Harry, you could've said all that earlier instead of letting me go on like a nonce. Guess that wank's gotta be more celebratory in nature then.” He winked lasciviously, somehow making the words and the gesture seem far more charming than they had any right to be in _any_ Universe. “Wait,” he said, “where do dick pics factor into this grand plan? That like a post-second date thing?”

“I... hadn't thought that far,” said Harry, struggling not to smile or shake his head at him. Both were becoming increasingly difficult not to do.

“Alright, alright. Get back to you on that. What about kissing?”

“Well,” blustered Harry, “I thought that whenever you were amenable to them we might... but I wouldn't want to foist the concept upon you.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes. “Honestly, waiting for you to start would mean waiting a bloody lifetime.” He leaned in and pressed his alcohol-tinted lips to Harry's own, which were pliant with surprise, but only for so long as his brain took to register the perfection of the feeling, at which point he chased it like a man in the desert would chase an oasis. He curled his large, possessive hand into Eggsy's hair to hold him close, beginning to push him back against the door, light-headed and ravenous, when that self-same brain peskily reminded him that they were meant to be taking this slowly, and he parted as quickly as possible before he risked ignoring his own good sense.

Eggsy blinked with glazed eyes and then cleared his throat, swaying slightly on the spot for a few dangerous seconds in which Harry stayed close in case he fell over. “I should've expected that,” he finally managed.

“Expected what?”

“You kiss like you fight. I assume sex with you is gonna make my eyes pop outta their sockets?”

“Charming,” said Harry, somehow sounding dry and fond at once.

Eggsy grinned, obviously pleased with himself. “No dick pics, but I am _definitely_ expecting some sexting, otherwise I'm gonna go out of my damn mind.”

“Delayed gratification is unheard of with you, isn't it?”

“Why wait when the world's a bitch sometimes?”

“A fair point,” acceded Harry and kissed him one last time, before leaving him with another promise of flowers and at least some mild text-flirting.

 

*******************

 

After that first night he made himself the promise that he would learn how to wake up without a sound, no matter how bad the nightmares. The mild-mannered lepidopterist may not have had the strength, but Harry Hart certainly did! If Eggsy could forgive all his other flaws then he could at least work to keep this one as much to himself as possible.

He suffered a few missteps before he had the trick down enough to allow himself to spend a full night with Eggsy and in that time he had unfortunately been monitored during missions as having severe insomnia and nightmares. Kingsman looked at Statesman's assessment of him and judged it PTSD as well – fallout from having his mind tampered with and forced to commit mass murder, before being shot in the head, and with his ruined left eye it wasn't long before it was suggested that he honourably retire.

Eggsy, surprisingly, followed. Or, if you asked Merlin or Roxy or _anybody else_ at the office, it really wasn't a surprise at all.

The retirement party was small, given that most of Harry's old colleagues were dead, but it was no-less a pleasant affair, involving a lot of surprised handshakes from surviving members of other branches and an almost tearful farewell with Merlin.

They spent some time in Stanhope Mews celebrating with lazy days and sex until it became stifling and from one day to the next they had picked a destination, packed up, and gone to Gibraltar. Eggsy's choice, naturally. Harry got to pick the next one: Italy. And then wandering through Europe, either by plane, train, car, or foot, constantly demanding updates from Roxy who was taking care of Mr Pickle the Second and JB. Eggsy wrote it all down, taking far too many pictures for Harry's taste, but he respected his wish for tangible memories.

The next two years they generally didn't stay anywhere for longer than a couple of weeks, except for that one, never-ending, glorious month in a secluded spot in full view of Illimani.

Somewhere along their journeys Harry stopped covering the scarred remains of his left eye, a decision he noticed was met with many an attempted surreptitious look and smile from Eggsy. Any choice he made that had Eggsy smiling must be a good one, so he weathered the more blatant stares from strangers, and humoured Eggsy's description of him as “even more badass than before.”

It was a strangely mutual sudden decision that had them returning to England via Ireland, up to Scotland and down through the peak district. They took their UK journey at a pace just as unhurried as the rest of their travels and it was another two months before they were finally back in London.

By lucky chance Roxy was on-leave and so Harry and Eggsy hosted an intimate party with her, Merlin, Michelle, Daisy, and the dogs that involved all-around tipsiness and a surprise leave to be with her son from Michelle – that was, as long as he wasn't planning on dragging him into trouble and only because she hadn't seen Eggsy this happy in years (Eggsy had sent her photographic updates via whatsapp for the entirety of their two-year journey, all of them including big smiles from him and long-suffering attempts at forced selfie-joviality from Harry).

The next day Harry and Eggsy leisurely packed up the remainder of their valued things – including The Sun magazines, both Mr Pickles, and JB – hired a moving van, and drove to Wales.

Eggsy's idea again. “You know, we never went to Wales and it's right next door.”

Harry couldn't fault the logic in that.

They drove over the bridge into South Wales, foregoing Cardiff and Swansea in favour of driving directly to St Davids and enjoying the chilly relatively touristless walks along the beaches and the cathedral for a few days, before driving North up the coastline and stopping wherever they wanted for walks, food, sex, or sleep, until they hit the edges of the national park.

Heading inland again and stopping at every castle along the way, they eventually followed along a similar route to Henry IIs army when he had decided to retake Wales in 1165, down past Chirk Castle and Oswestry, straddling Ceiriog Valley and the English border where possible, before they finally reached the outskirts Knighton and for some reason, eight months on, one house-buy and an extensive refurbishment later they hadn't left the area yet. Harry blamed the interesting observatory and walking paths not far off, refusing to admit out loud that he might be comfortable anywhere with a population of under ten thousand unless there were mitigating factors. At some point began new furniture acquisition, Eggsy's opening of a joint tailors, and Harry's garden.

Somewhere along the way they had become disgustingly domestic enough to illicit _aw's_ from the locals whenever they were seen together, even if Harry barely talked to anyone unless it was work-related or they had questions about plant seeds or suit cuts. Eggsy and he had somehow turned into the local gay couple on their little street, a distinction which brought more old women with cakes around the house than Harry knew how to politely turn away and so had to receive almost daily. Eggsy, of course, thought it was hilarious and was happily gaining weight from all the free food.

And somehow, through all this, they had managed to never talk about Harry's occasional nightmares. He wasn't even sure if Eggsy had ever noticed him leaving the bed.

 

*******************

 

It was another sleepless kitchen night.

Harry had already made his second cup of tea and now sat wrapped in his favourite – somewhat threadbare – maroon dressing-gown in the old, blue armchair that faced out of the kitchen double-doors and onto the veranda, which sloped a little up into a cosy conglomeration of assorted plant-life that Harry tended with Eggsy's occasional help.

The back garden had seemed impenetrably black when he had first begun to observe it, as though nothing existed beyond the comforting soft lights of the house, but now he had become accustomed to the gloom and the shades of his planted flowers and bushes had come into view. He was continuing his usual tradition of watching them while the sun came up and judging how far along they had come since the last time he had found himself in this position.

In his lap sat his own, illustrated book of _Brief Butterflies,_ open on the page of the Monarch. You didn't usually find them on the British Isles, especially not this far inland. They sometimes were blown off-course from their migration across America, travelling instead all the way across the Atlantic to spend a late August searching for milkweed plants on the wrong continent, and then dying around the end of the month when their search proved fruitless. This would be the first August spent in this house and Harry wasn't expecting to see any. He just liked to occasionally look at his own pictures.

The book was going to be published next week. He'd written quite a bit since arriving: The butterfly book, two travel-logs, some reviews on books and movies, and another, half-finished story about fictional, time-travelling detectives, as well as notes on his own dreams that were complete enough to count as short stories.

He'd never have thought that it would be this easy to jump back to some version of his former self, thinking that when he'd made a choice to not be that man that he had completely ceased to exist in favour of some colder, harder, more aggressively sarcastic copy of Harry Hart. As it turned out, both of those men were just an aspect of who he'd been all along, with equal penchant for violence and focused study. That was what had made him such a good agent after all. The drawback had been his quick temper, but he'd always had that as well, just tending to use words more than fists in the past, and now that he was living here he found that he didn't mind not having an outlet for violence any more. Mostly he got by on a schedule of long runs, a rigorous work-out scheme, writing books, working at the tailor shop, gardening, and volunteering at the local refugee centre. And, naturally, spending much of his time with Eggsy. When more was needed he'd take a weekend to London to visit Roxy or Merlin. There was always a brawl to be found somewhere.

A sound from behind him startled him halfway out of his seat, the spectre in the doorway revealing itself after a moment of one-eyed squinting as Eggsy with one of Harry's older, larger T-shirts hastily thrown over the usual bare chest he preferred to sleep in.

“You've lost some of your touch,” admonished Harry.

“Nah, weren't trying to be quiet,” said Eggsy. “Watched you a couple of times before and you didn't notice. Fuck, that sounds creepy.” He grimaced. “Meant... thought we should talk at some point and got tired of waiting for you to start. Not your best skill.”

“Talk? About...?”

“'Bout you not sleeping. I know it started way before we got here. All them times you said it was jet-lag or time-zones, or something you wanted to work on. Thought maybe you just weren't ready. But we've been here for months and... I mean, fuck Harry. It's not like you don't know that I know. Been there enough times when you've woken up. Did you just think we'd never mention it ever and that'd be cool with me?”

He had moved from the door to behind the kitchen counter whilst speaking and Harry had begun to bustle about to make him a hot chocolate, heating milk and getting the cup and the powder from their shelves. “That's how my life has tended to be. You don't talk about these kinds of things, they're... unnecessarily upsetting in my old social circles. Only acceptable with your therapist or when particularly sloshed at the pub.” There was perhaps a dash of contrition to be heard beneath the matter-of-fact statement, otherwise told as though commenting on the fine seasonal weather. It was further cemented when he added a sprinkle of cinnamon to the chocolate before handing the cup to Eggsy.

“Yeah, but not in your life with me.”

They had argued a few times over the course of their three-year relationship; never with the same kind of barbs that were intended to hurt like the fight before Harry had been shot, and most ending in relieved smiles or sex or both. A few had required further discussion (something Harry despised) and gestures of forgiveness (something Harry enjoyed), but there was always, Harry felt, an unspoken agreement that they had wasted enough time before finding one another to allow their differences and insecurities to break them now. Shortly after finding their current home the arguments had ceased altogether, to be replaced with these softly-spoken talks and disagreements, had over tea and hot chocolate.

“Not with me,” said Eggsy again, like he was repeating an incantation to lift some illusion that Harry was suffering from.

It surprisingly worked. The fears still lingered, but the power they held over him crumpled beneath the force of Eggsy's soft, sturdy presence, sipping his hot chocolate with a fiercely serious expression on his face.

A soft breath escaped him, as though he was expelling the last of his doubts and then he spoke. “I've been dreaming about... my death.”

“The church?”

Harry shook his head and continued haltingly, quietly. “I haven't dreamt about that once, if you can believe it. I might even consider it a welcome change. No, they're... almost like visions. Of pasts and futures in which I'm different people. Spaceship captains, explorers, priests, artists sometimes... I've even been a tailor. But then... I don't know. I get involved in things. Violent. Sometimes noble, sometimes.. not. And I end up dying... every time. And...”

Here the spell that he had been suffering under since his second life had been granted overtook his tongue again, tangling it into knots. It was silly, all of this. Stupid. He should never have bothered Eggsy with it in the first place.

“I've had dreams like that,” said Eggsy, interrupting the silence suddenly. “Not with me. With you, like what you have. I'm with you and I watch you die. Had 'em for... fuck, since Kentucky. Those six months before we found you again were so shit, I don't know how I...” his face became small and defiantly hard, straining to keep back whatever emotion was threatening to spill out and revealing it in his traitorously wobbling chin. “I was... seeing someone. And it could've been good, I guess, if I'd never met you first – and don't you fucking apologise for that. Best thing that ever happened to me.” Harry shut his mouth in deference to Eggsy's pointed teacher-esque finger at him. Eggsy lowered it and sighed. “It got so bad, with the nightmares, and by living in your place, Christ, I barely changed a thing in six months. Like I wasn't obviously still waiting for you. But we agreed, best thing for her and for me that she got on with doing her own thing, since that thing was, well, being a princess and shit. Ain't got time to wait for me. Could keep it in check during missions, was like I just... shut off, but at home, it was the fucking worst. Didn't know if I'd ever get better. And then we found you. And the night I kissed you, they just... stopped. Was like... I don't know... like I was being saved from all that now I could finally believe you was real or some shit like that. I know it's, well, ha! -” he rubbed the back of his neck - “... guess it's not so dumb, cos you've been having them too. Thought I was going nuts so best never to mention them.”

Another lengthy silence, in which Harry took a moment to think by sipping his rapidly cooling tea.

“I didn't know,” he finally said. It sounded like an apology.

Eggsy's eye-roll was accompanied by a toothy smile. “Obviously. I know you love knowing everything, Haz, but sometimes you've gotta admit you're just as human as the rest of us.”

Harry allowed a brief acknowledgement of his own amusement, before the intense one-eyed sincerity returned again. “You're there in mine as well,” he finally said, trying to let it sound less difficult to share than it was. “You see it happening to me. I thought... on top of Kentucky and everything else I've fucked up, I shouldn't drag you into this and it turns out you've been in the middle of it all along. And if I'd just _told_ you...” he ran his fingers along the edge of the cup that now held undrinkable dredges. Eggsy waited. “It's not even the worst, really. They all seem so real. As though all of this has happened before and I always wake up thinking... that I did it on purpose. Left you behind like that, over and over again. It's stupid-”

“It ain't. We've both been through some shit, Harry.”

The scars on Harry's face bore the testament of that bluntly put statement. “Yes, but. I wish that you and I had sorted things through before I went running blindly into a potentially fatal situation. I was angry and reckless. If my other selves are to be believed, that's an ongoing bloody trend.” He sighed, “I though somehow that admitting all this to you would turn them into reality. Memories, rather than nightmares. I'm not particularly good at emotional honesty, I know, but I. Eggsy, I'd never want to leave you again -”

“Shh,” said Eggsy and placed a hand on his appled cheek. His thumb ran just on the edge of the jagged scarring, as though in reverence.

“I couldn't bear to leave you again,” repeated Harry, the horror of it marring his face.

“Harry, I've gotta be honest. I don't care if some past you fucked up. If a thousand past you's fucked up. Christ, we're both fuck ups right now and we're still good. I ain't about to up and leave because of your shit. If you woke me up every night at four am for the rest of my life and I ended up with damn crows feet at thirty, I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you. I trust you about that.” As he spoke his thumb smoothed over the night-time terrors from Harry's expression.

Harry's hand found itself snaking around the back of Eggsy's neck and they drew each other into a kiss, the very barest beginnings of sunrise behind them feeling like a gentle metamorphosis from fear to love as the light touched them.

“I mean,” added Eggsy, breaking away for an unbearable moment, “I'm not gonna lie, it's some pretty gnarly bullshit with them dreams, but I'm just letting you know I don't give a fuck about any mistakes you've made, even if you made them for a thousand fucking years.”

“Mhmm,” agreed Harry, kissing him again.

“Don't matter in which hypothetical life we're talking here,” continued Eggsy against his lips. “Ended up with us here, didn't it? Pretty worth every sacrifice I'd say.”

Harry muffled the last part of his sentence, which turned into an indignant laugh and at last reciprocity.

“You're ridiculously romantic,” he murmured and moved his mouth up to his earlobe.

Eggsy's splutter morphed into another laugh. “Go fuck yourself, Harry.” He pushed him back, only to grab the front of the dressing-gown and pull him back into another proper snog.

“Was thinking that was something you were planning on doing,” Harry answered, causing another ever-heart-splitting laugh, Eggsy pulling him back to the bedroom.

Their cups stood cold and forgotten on the counter-top and eventually the first butterflies appeared to playfully flutter about amongst the flowerbeds, a large black-and-yellow beauty hidden like a gem amongst the rest.

 

 

 

 ***  _The End ***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why, I assume everyone who's pensioned becomes a writer. Maybe I just assume everyone's a writer. Yes, they settle down close to where their original selves met. In Wales. This story ends in Wales. I'm just super into Wales okay. It's really late, I should sleep.
> 
> Comments/kudos welcome!!!!


End file.
